


Ophelia

by BoatsNHoes



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Canonical Character Death, Dualscar is a dick, Eventual Frickle Frackle, Interrrogation, M/M, Multi, Polyamorous Signless, So is the Psiioniic, Torture, mpreg mention
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-02-10
Updated: 2015-07-09
Packaged: 2018-03-11 14:27:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 19
Words: 27,714
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3329600
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BoatsNHoes/pseuds/BoatsNHoes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He lets his hood fall casually to his shoulders. The first word that crosses your mind is ‘runt.’ And after that, 'fuck'. He looks at you with an arched brow and piercingly red eyes, “And you think you can take me so easily?” His casual tone practically mocks you, and you snarl, pulling a length of rope from your belt.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Entry #1

**Author's Note:**

> This is our headcanon for what happened between the signless and dualscar. 'Us' being tumblr users hereagainthereagain and rude-and-quite-ginger. This will follow from their meeting until and possibly after the death of the signless. Constructive criticism is always appreciated.

Your name is Dualscar. Her Imperious Condescension’s Orphaner. You are also a registered privateer, and a bounty hunter of sorts. Your ship has pulled in to port after a particularly long and unsuccessful assignment, and you plan to stay land bound for a while for some much-needed relaxation, as well as some gathering of important information. 

This information is in regards to priority number one in your bounty hunting duties, the Signless. He has eluded you for a long while, the little shit, but you have the strongest feeling that you’re getting close to finding him. So close that you can almost taste that detestable mutant’s cherry red blood. 

You decide to kill two chirpbeasts with one stone and make your way to the nearest tavern from your beloved ship. Liquor loosens tongues, you’ve learned, and it would be a good place to relax, throw back a couple pints, and ask around for information regarding your target. You swagger into the tavern, after making an appropriately dramatic entrance of course.

You scan the room and a small cloaked figure draws their hood up, catching your attention. You focus on that figure for a moment, noting the lack of any horns distorting the hood, and decide to investigate. You’ll start by buying them a drink. 

You approach, taking the seat next to the suspicious individual and putting some money down on the bar. “A drink for myself and this lad here, yes?”

His voice is soft when he speaks, facing halfway away from you, “I’m fine, but thank you kindly.”

You accept the mugs offered to you and take a swig of one before setting the other in front of him. “Oh, but I insist.”

He’s short, and looks quite delicate as he takes the glass, bringing it to his lips and making a noise before laughing, “Hoooo, that’s strong. A seadweller’s ale?” 

Despite becoming less standoffish, he keeps his hood up. You take another large draught of the ale in your own mug, and chuckle, “Aye, I suppose it would be a bit strong for a landdweller like yourself. Forgive me, with that hood up it’s hard to know either way. How’s about you take it down, have a nice chat. Loosen up. ‘Tisn’t like you’re some wanted troll, ey? You’ve nothing to fear from me.” You clap him on the back.

He lets out a small noise of discomfort at this, “I’m actually rather bashful, and I think I’ll keep it up if that’s alright.”

You grin as your bullshit-o-meter starts ringing like nobody’s fuckin’ business. “Bashful, are you? You didn’t seem to have a problem with having it down before this old troll walked in. If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you had somethin’ to hide.”

“Well, if I’m being honest, I’m trying to hide from my ex-matesprit. She’s livid with me and out for my head,” his voice is steady as he barely turns toward you. With that motion, his cloak shifts just slightly and you catch a glimpse of candy red beneath. This little shrimp looks nothing like a member of Her Condescension’s Crimson Guard... which means you’ve found your target.

Your shark-like grin widens, “I’m sorry to hear that lad. Why don’t you come with me then?” You catch him by the arm. “It would be a shame to see a young thing like you torn to pieces by some witch.”

His eye catches yours. He knows that you know. Nonetheless, he loops his arm through yours. The little runt has twigs for limbs, “Alright. Wouldn’t want to start anything in this fine establishment.”

You lead him out of the tavern, a smug smile on your face and gripping his arm tightly lest he escape. “So. You might as well take that hood down, boy. You’re caught, and I like to see my targets’ faces before I take them to their deaths.”

He lets his hood fall casually to his shoulders. The first word that crosses your mind is ‘runt.’ And after that, 'fuck'. He looks at you with an arched brow and piercingly red eyes, “And you think you can take me so easily?” His casual tone practically mocks you and you snarl, pulling a length of rope from your belt.

“I know so, lad. And if you think for one second you have even the slightest chance of escape, well,” You laugh, “You’ll be rid of that delusion rather quickly, I think.”

He grins up at you, biting his lip and dragging it through his teeth. What is he playing at? “It was nice to meet you, Privateer,” And with that he leans forward, grabbing the hand not holding him and biting down harshly. You roar, releasing him, and hold your hand, now dripping violet, to your chest.  
By the time you’ve recovered, he’s made a break for it, dashing between the trolls on the street, and you bellow, pointing to him, “By order of her Imperious Condescension’s Orphaner, STOP THAT TROLL!” 

You start to chase after him, still nursing your injured hand. He knocks over barrels of goods and slips between dock workers until he’s out of sight. The last you see of him is that stupid FUCKING grin.

As you lose sight of him, you slow, doubling over and wheezing. Well this fucking sucks. You were this close. THIS CLOSE and he got away. Your cheeks are burning with shame, and you straighten, punching one of the nearby workers and sending him tumbling from the dock. This makes you feel a little better.

But still, you decide to head back to your ship and drink away your shame in solitude. Because that always works out so well for you.


	2. Entry #2

There’s something off about your cabin, as you enter it. Something you can’t quite place. Oh well. You fill the tumbler at your desk and lean back in your chair, starting to drink your cares away. You’re unaware of the other lone occupant of your ship. You’ve downed glasses worth of brandy before you hear a noise. A creak of the floorboards, which, as intimately familiar as you are with this ship, you know comes from close to the cabin door. You look in that direction, catching a glimpse of another troll there... Wait, that’s… 

“Oh, you again,” you sneer, “Come to mock me, have you?”

“Actually, I thought I was in the clear but it seems we were fated to encounter AGAIN,” he sits on one of your barrels, legs draped over each other, “it just had to be your ship.”  
You raise an eyebrow, “You have to be pretty dense to hide from a sailor aboard a ship, of all places.”

“I was panicking,” He looks at your hand, “It’s… It’s not too bad, is it?” The genuine concern in his voice throws you off, and you give him an odd look before glancing to your hand as well. It’s still bleeding a bit.

“Excuse me?”

He rolls his eyes, “Don’t be daft, your hand? Is it bleeding badly?”

An idea crops up in your head. You’ll use this odd concern against him. You look to your hand again, shrugging. “I’ve had worse... but yes, it is rather nasty… Why do you care, exactly?”

“I feel sort of bad for biting you,” a light smile crosses his face. He’s playing with fire, this one. And he knows it.

You stand, stretching, “You’re a strange one. If you feel so bad then, why don’t you help me wrap it?” At this, he walks over to you, short little bastard he is, and looks at the bottle on your desk, then at your hand.

“Is that brandy?”

You raise an eyebrow, tapping your glass. “What, this? It is indeed. Why do you ask?”

Without pause, he takes the bottle, taking a swig before pouring a bit on the bite marks. Quite a bit. “Cleans the wound, mother actually taught me this."

You let out a decidedly unmanly shriek, knocking the bottle from his hand and sending it tumbling to the floor. As you shove him away, you make sure you move between him and the door. “Augh! What the fuck, boy? That stings like a fuckin’ bitch!”

You grab him by the collar, lifting him from his feet and tossing him into your chair. “You little shit, I don’t believe a word of it. The fuck even is a ‘mother’ anyway?! You were just tryin’ to distract me so you could make another grand escape, eh?”

You pull that length of rope from your belt again, advancing on him, “Well not this time, you crazy fuckin’ bastard.”

“Wait wait wait!” He stands quickly and backs up against the wall, holding up his hands defensively, “Let’s not lose ourselves, it’s just a bit of pain, really,” he looks up at you, his eyes less clever than earlier, more childish now, “And mother is, well... My lusus.”

You narrow your eyes, “No, I ain’t gonna fall for your shit. Stay where you are.” You move closer to him, uncoiling the rope and making a grab for his extended hands.

“Oh, here,” He holds his wrists together for you. What the actual fuck? Does this kid have a death wish? “It’s a bit easier if I do this.”

You snarl, binding him with a rough hand and shoving him into the corner of your cabin. “Don’t play with me boy. I see what you’re doing. Trying to get me to have pity on your insanity will do you no good. I need this break.” You’ve said more than you intended. Oops.

He blinks at you, “Oh! It makes sense now! You’re trying to win her favor, correct? Well, surely that’s a noble enough reason.”

Baring your teeth, you glare at him, “Don’t try and act like you understand me, child.”

He blinks at you again, “Ok, ok. Then tell me about yourself. So I understand better,” His brows knit together, “Wait a moment, I thought the Orphaners were her favorites, even spoken to by name? Why do you need her favor?”

A hot bolt of rage shoots through you at his words and you turn, kicking him in the stomach. “How DARE you mock me, you insolent shit! She... She’s… Her favor is hard won, even among the Orphaners. I’ve been working for SWEEPS to achieve even the standing I have!” You snarl at him. “The fact that you come onto MY ship, to mock me like this. I doubt she would begrudge me killing you myself. You are merely scum on the shoes of the empire! I don’t have to take this SHIT from you.” You kick him again, panting. It doesn’t make you feel any better, but damn if it isn’t satisfying to see him doubled over in pain.

He coughs, “I meant- hhh- no harm. I was merely asking,” he coughs again, looking small and pitiful with his candy red blood dripping from his lips. He looks back up at you, “may I finish wrapping your hand?” he wheezes out.

You turn your gaze to his face, shooting daggers. “Fuck you. You’re staying bound, and I’m taking you in, you little brat.”

“I can wrap it with my hands tied. Please, let’s not lose fingers over this?” He holds out his bound hands, “Please, Orphaner.”

You sigh, moving forward and offering him your hand and a length of cloth, “Try anything and it’ll be you who’s losing fingers.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” he carefully wraps your hand, pulling the cloth tight enough for you to still be able to use it, “There, now just be careful and you’ll be right as rain.” He looks up at you, “So this is a real privateer vessel?”

You give him a flat look, taking a seat in your chair, “No, it’s a fucking sailboat.

“Oh shush,” He wiggles his way to his feet, acting as if you hadn’t just kicked the shit out of him twice, “She’s beautiful. May I see above decks?”

You feel your face soften a bit at his admiration, and school that scowl quickly back into place. “I… suppose it wouldn’t do any harm,” you lead him out onto the main deck.

“She’s beautifully crafted, Orphaner.” 

You respond to this with a gruff noise, admiring your ship along with him, “Helped craft her myself. Blueprints and all.”

He looks to you with genuine admiration in his eyes, “I’ve never been aboard a ship so grand!”

At this, you give him a side-eye and a small smile. “She’s magnificent, ain’t she? My Ophelia is the terror of the seas. “

“Ophelia…” he says dreamily, running over to the railing and looking out, “beautiful. I’ve never actually been sailing. Mother kept me away from the beaches and coast...”

“Hm. A smart decision, that… Well, at least you’ll get to have that experience before you die.”

His face gets solemn for a moment before he breaks out into a grin. “Glad it’s you taking me.”

“Quite the cheerful one, aren’t you.”

“Well, without hope, one is lost… Oh! What’s your name?”

This catches you off guard, “I... You know my name, most trolls know the name of Dualscar.”

“No, no. Your actual name! I gave my word to you that I would tell Her Imperious Condescension your name once I’ve been brought in,” He holds his bound hands out to shake your own, “I’ll introduce myself also, I’m Karcin.”

You take one of his hands, giving it a firm shake. “It’s… It’s Cyrrus.”

His eyes light up like a newly pupated seadweller finding water for the first time, “Wow…. Cyrrus. I like it. Though I wish we could have met under better circumstances.” He smiles at you. His mouth is crooked and his nose is too round. This bothers you for some reason. Just as the stubble along his face does. Clearly he cannot shave properly.

“Just how old are you, lad?”

“Uhh... maybe, ten sweeps?’ He keeps his grin in place. This surprises you immensely. You’d assumed such a high priority would be older than that…

“So old, really? You look to be but a wriggler.” This seems to light a fire under his ass.

“I will have you know that assuming I am young because of my physical appearance is quite rude and could be triggering to some! Please learn to watch what you say.”  
You scoff, raising an eyebrow, “Quite bold from a little runt like yourself. Just where do you get off telling a highblood what to do? Perhaps you should learn your place.” Your tone is almost teasing, trying to egg him on.

His eyes get wide, “Well I NEVER! Just because you may be a highblood does not make you any different from myself or other trolls! In fact, the caste system was put in place by the Condesce. It was never traditionally practiced!” He gives a huff, an indignated flush rising to his cheeks, “Furthermore-“

You shush him, “Chill, kid. I was teasing at ya. No need to get all in preacher mode at me. Not like it will make much of a difference anyway. I like things the way they are. That bullshit only gets through to the downtrodden.”

He looks at you. Something... Something you can’t quite place is behind his eyes, “I’ve gotten to more than just the downtrodden, Cyrrus. Believe me.”

You raise an eyebrow in challenge, “Well, you’ve got a month. Surprise me, lad. We’ll see how it goes.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The name "karcin" comes from ashkatom's work "Filling blanks and taking names" which I highly recommend. It can be found here: http://archiveofourown.org/works/338979/chapters/548472
> 
> ALSO. Cyrrus is pronounced "See-rus"


	3. Entry #3

The next night, after your crew has made their merry way back to the ship, you inform them that you will be traveling at once to the Capital. This earns quite a few groans of protest and as many swears, but at the additional information you give them, that being that you’ve found your mark and they will all be getting a significant cut of the reward, they perk up quite a bit, quickly setting sail. You’ve got the Signless tied to the mast of the ship. He doesn’t seem to mind too terribly at this point in time, caught up in watching the crew go about their business and set everything up as you make your way out to sea.

"This is a real crew!" He looks around at them excitedly, watching as they let loose the sail and swab the decks and hoist the anchor. "Oh, excuse me, you missed over here by the mast,” he says politely to the brownblooded deck hand, pointing with his boot to the spot of mud.

The deck hand nods with a cautious smile, cleaning up the spot he’d missed. There’s murmuring among the crew.

“Awful polite for some convict, en’t ‘e?”

"Little small though ain't he?"

"I know. You sure he's the right one? He’s barely pupated."

"EXCUSE ME," He wiggles around the mast and faces the two teal bloods making jokes about his stature, "I will have you know that I am ten sweeps old and quite healthy. Do not for one moment think that I am some young heathen who doesn't know how to watch over himself. Now if you had said this to someone who wasn't me, they could have gotten offended and you could have really damaged their self-image"

".....holy shit he told you didn't he"

Damn, he really is a feisty one, isn’t he? You watch him scold your crew, nearly positive that if they had tails, they would be between their legs. This won’t be a dull month, at least. You move over to the small figure secured to the main mast, kneeling down to his level. 

“How are ye faring, lad?” 

"I'd be faring much better if your crew wouldn't be so quick to jump to assumptions about my age! ”

He shoots them all a dirty look, but all in all he looks healthy and far from seasick.

You snort, “It’s not a difficult thing to do, lad. Even without the assumptions, you’re younger than anyone here by sweeps.”

“And just how old are you? Mister Orphaner?” His voice is teasing

“Around 20, I believe,” you say with a raised brow.

His eyebrows shoot up. “Oh my you age well.”

"I'm second rung on the hemospectrum, a seadweller. What did you expect? I shouldn't start properly aging until at least 150. I doubt you would even live that long, given the chance."

“You never know,” He smiles crookedly at you. Damn his flirty boyishness straight to hell, “Will you scratch my nose?”

You scoff, “Do it yourse-… Oh," You'd forgotten he was bound, for a moment.

"Aevone, come scratch the prisoner’s nose!” The brownblood from earlier comes forth, giving his nose a scratch with a ragged fingernail. He inadvertently draws blood and you shoo him away. “Can’t even scratch a trolls fuckin nose correctly. Fuckin dirtblood, get out of here.”

Signless kicks you, not very hard but enough for you to shoot him a warning growl, "Be kind! He did not intend to harm me. Such slurs are rude!"

That little brat kicked you!

You kick him right back, "Watch your mouth, mutant."

He stares up at you like you've sucker punched him in the stomach, "I would be wary with your words. One day they could get you killed. Orphaner. "

Your face flattens and you kick him once more, a cold stone of some emotion you don’t recognize settling in the pit of your stomach. Shame? Guilt? No, you feel none of these things. You storm away from him, barking orders at your crew and deliberately avoiding his gaze.

He's speaking to your crew again. "No no, you see. We are all equal. We are capable of coexisting quite peacefully! We just have to be governed by someone who uses kindness instead of fear to rule their subjects."

Some of your crew seem genuinely interested, you make a mental note to watch for those ones.

You approach the mast again, snapping your fingers and barking out, "Alright, that's enough heretic drivel, back to work, all of you!"

"Were you listening?" He looks up at you like the cocky little bastard he is. "Did you like it?"

You lean against the mast, looking down at him. Down ON him. Just how it should be. Right?

"I heard some of it. You really believe all that bullshit you're spoutin’? We're an inherently violent species, there’s no way we could coexist so easily as you think."

"We are not inherently violent. We have been taught for sweeps to be that way." He looks at you. Staring at you with those infuriating eyes. Maybe you should blindfold him?  
Fuckin' twerp.

“Sweeps long enough that it’s been bred into us. The only way that we can be ruled at this point is through intimidation. That’s why is has to be a highblood. We’re the only fuckin ones terrifyin’ enough to give anyone an incentive to work with all these shits that they hate,” you’re proud of yourself for that argument, and you slide to the floorboards next to him. Let him try and have a good answer to that one.

"Hate will be your own down fall. Hate is what will drive a revolution. And hate is what will destroy our kind." He says, his voice the most serious you've heard it, "I've preached that only love can drive out the hate in the hearts of our people, and I hope I am right. Otherwise, we are doomed."

This strikes a chord with you for some reason, and you stiffen, “Some are incapable of love, giving or receiving, whether it be by their own faults or the fault of the people they meet. But everyone. Everyone is capable of hate. Perhaps you should consider that, before you dig yourself deeper into this hole of denial.” With that, you stand, going to hole yourself up in your captain's quarters. You need to think for a while. A long while


	4. Entry #4

Dualscar: Be the other guy

 

"Captain, don't drink too much!" You say, watching the broad shouldered seadweller shoot you a very inappropriate hand gesture as he walks off  
You are trying your damndest to get through his rather thick skull. Sometimes it almost seems like its working, but then of course he waddles away to brood. No doubt he’s already halfway through a bottle of that awful ale...

Clearly there is something inside him that is hurting. That is keeping him from seeing that love is not a bad thing, that it is not a hard thing to accomplish or earn or give. God you wish you were loose so you could snatch that briny ale away from him!

But, love should not have to be earned if it is to be received, at least... not the way your Orphaner hopes to achieve with the Condesce.

Her Orphaner

Not yours 

Ha.

Haha, yeah. Hers.

You sigh and lean your head against the mast.

That brownblood from earlier, Aevone, approaches cautiously and sits cross-legged in front of you. His eyes are wide, kind. The kind of eyes you love to see. “I’m.. Well, I apologize for gettin’ ya, earlier.”

You smile at him, "Was just a little accident. No harm done…. So, your Captain. Does he always spend most days in his cabin drinking until he can't see straight? Honestly it is not healthy, it makes me a tad worried for him. Doesn't he have a moirail? Or perhaps a matesprit?" You are genuinely curious about their Captain, this... Orphaner Dualscar

He grimaces, “Aye, well.. Drunk is sort of a permanent state of bein’ for him. I haven’t been here long, but as far as I’ve heard, the only relationship he’s known to have had was a kismesis, some blue-blooded pirate. Quite the beauty, she was. Or so I’ve been told. It fell apart long before I was hired. Thinks he’s too good for a moirail, he does. ‘Least that’s what the rest of the crew says. As for a matesprit, well. He’s not exactly the most lovable of trolls,” he chortles.

"That's a shame. Has he never had a flushmate to console him? Or a moirail to be his shoulder to lean on? Truly there must be someone for him!" You try to stand, forgetting that you are still tied to the mast and nearly jerk your arms from their sockets. 

Ouch.

You hate having your hands bound.

He frowns as he notes your struggle, “I’m sorry about that there, laddie. Truly it seems like overkill, you don’t seem the type to try and hurt anyone and it’s not like you could go anywhere. If I had any influence I’d talk to the cap’n for ya, but alas. I’m sure you’ll bring him to his senses eventually. You’re quite the talker, aren’t ya?”

You blush a little, "Well, I don't mean to play my own noise maker but.. yes. Mother says I'm preachy. Psii says I'm a loudmouth" You chuckle.

He tilts his head to the side, “Mother? That’s quite a strange name. Never heard the like of it before.”

"Oh! No no no, she's the troll who raised me." Do these trolls not have mothers?

Your eyes flick over to the door of Dualscars cabin 

He could have used a mother.

The troll in front of you looks thoroughly confused, “The troll who…? You were raised by a troll?”

"Yes. I was. She's the reason I believe that violence is not ingrained in us… She saved me." You smile fondly.

He gives you a soft smile in return before his head snaps up at the sound of a cry.

"Swabbie! Quit screwin around and do your fackin' job!" 

"Oh, well, I'm terribly sorry lad, I'd love to hear more, but I've got to be off. I'll be back though, if I can. I'm quite interested in what you have to say."

You smile, happy that someone here enjoys your company. Well, lets make this fun, "Alrighty lads! Who wants to teach me a sea shanty!" Your mind still wanders to Dualscar. Or, Cyrrus. You do much prefer that name.


	5. Entry #5

About an hour later, he stumbles out of his cabin, bottle in hand, and plops himself down next to you. He reeks of alcohol, and you wrinkle your nose.

"You alright there sport? Still on the booze cruise?" You laugh at your pun. Ok, be serious now, "Whats up Cyrrus?”

He frowns staring at the deck and brow furrowing almost comically, “I don’t like you.”

"Shame. Because I have no quarrel with you" You look at him, slightly envious of his sharp features, "Tell me what you've found at the bottom of your bottle?"

He continues to stare at the deck, dropping his bottle. He continues where he left off, ignoring your statements. “You make me think. About things I’d rather forget. I’d quite appreciate it if you cut that shit out.”

"I can't. For my sake and yours. I can't" You dare to rest your head on his shoulder, which is quite awkward when your hands are behind your back, "Tell me what troubles you, Captain.”

He scoffs, but doesn’t push you away, “You really that bored, boy? Bored enough to ask to hear of the petty troubles of an old sailor? That sea air must be goin’ to your head.”

"Actually, the sea air is quite refreshing! And, I would love to hear what troubles you my friend." You're mentally praying that he won't punch you. He doesn’t, thank the heavens.  
Merely makes a gruff little sound, staying silent for a moment.

“I’m unlovable. And not good enough to hate.” 

"Bull fucking shit" You're surprised at your forwardness, but, this is the only way to get through to him.

He gives a soft, humorless laugh, staring out at the horizon, “Lad, I’m flattered at your faith in me, but you don’t know me. I’ve bored my kismesis to the point of leavin’. Never had a red quadrant in my life. Love is a fantasy, and hate is a fickle thing. I remember when I was like you. All starry eyed and ‘love finds a way.’ But here’s the thing. It doesn’t. It eats up everythin’ in it’s path, just as hate does, and leaves nothing in ya but loneliness.”

You decide to do what you do best, "Shhhh. Shhh. Things like this take more than one person to fall apart you know. Trust me, I can't even fuckin keep my feelings straight." You give a soft chuckle, "But I can see someone falling for you easy, you're rugged, and have this beautiful ship…. You have good qualities Cyrrus."

You can't quite parse the look on his face in response to that. It looks like.. A combination between incredulousness and hope? He stays silent though, shaking his head.

"You can shake your head at me all you want, you know I'm right." You nudge him with your forehead. God your arms were beginning to ache. You make a small noise of discomfort and he sighs heavily, standing and stretching. You eye his motions longingly, god what you wouldn't give to be able to stretch out like that right now.

"Are you leaving so soon, Captain?" You watch him, hearing the crack of his vertebrae, god you're jealous.

He scans the horizon. It's brightening now, the sun will be up soon. "Aye. The sun'll be up before long, I suppose we should get you below decks, shouldn't we."

"That would be quite nice actually." You don't complain about your sore arms, you're just excited to be able to stand. To your surprise, he cuts the bindings on your hands as well as those holding you to the mast.

You rub your sore wrists as you stand, giving him an odd look, "You've cut the rope, you know. Do you wish for me to hold my hands together again?"

You pray he's going to say no, or at least tie them looser. You stand beside him, your head only coming up to his shoulder. It makes you feel quite small actually, you never realized the sheer size of Dualscar.

He chuckles, “Why should I have to tie you again? You’re in the middle of the ocean on a ship full of seadwellers. Just where could you go?”

You can't fight the big grin on your face, "Thank you so much!" You clear your throat, "I mean, it's much appreciated." 

You keep rubbing your wrists, internally commending his knot tying abilities as you follow him below decks, "So I bet I get the first class experience don't I?" You look up at him, chuckling.

“But of course. The finest my Ophelia’s brig has to offer,” he leads you to a small cell in the lowermost portion of the ship, opening the barred entrance and waving you in.

You make your way past him into the cell and he locks the door behind you. You reach out through the bars of the cell and grab his cape, "Sleep well, Cyrrus."

He turns his back to you and pulls his cape from your grasp, not responding but for a small grunt as he climbs the stairs leading above decks. You are alone in the dim light of the lantern hung nearby.


	6. Entry #6

The next night you spend in solitude, but for another brief visit from Aevone. He tells you a bit more of his story, and you tell him of your ideals. You spend an awful long time speaking to him, telling him of the kindness you have experienced, and the immense injustice you've been dealt. 

You hear movement above decks and listen for a moment, hoping your Captain will take a little trip down to visit you. You aren’t disappointed, hearing footsteps directly above you before Cyrrrus’ form comes into view a moment later. You take this moment to be a little shit. You begin speaking of love, and how the love you have transcends all quadrants.

"You see, there is no set way to fall in love. You cannot contain it to four quadrants, or maybe you can't even contain it to one person!"

Aevone, quite into what you are saying, jolts as Cyrrus clears his throat, scrambling to his feet before ducking out of the room quickly.

"Ah, good morning Captain." You grin up at him, "Did you catch my sermon? Hopefully you at least caught the good parts."

He grunts, "Don't you talk about anythin' other than love? I mean, you're tryin' to start a revolution, yes? Them don't seem like fightin' words."

"Why would I want to start a fight?" You stand, leaning on the bars of your cell. "I'm in this for peace. I do not wish to shed any unnecessary blood. Honestly there would be no point in shedding blood if I could help people see that there is more than just this fearful way of life,”

He frowns at this, “Just what kind of a revolutionary are you?”

"Is that what they're calling me?" You grin, raising your eyebrow to seem coy.

He gives you a strange look, starting to pace. He seems a bit agitated, and when he speaks, you can brave a guess as to why.

“You said before, that you’ve gotten through to more than just the downtrodden.”

"Yes, I said that." You're quite curious now. You watch him, keeping your expression light and playful.

He pauses in his pacing, looking you in the eye, “I’d like to give you a chance to test that. See it for myself.”

Any witty quip you may have had died on your lips. "What?"

He takes a breath, starting to pace again, eyes locked firmly on the floorboards, “I came here to offer you a bargain, of sorts.”

“We have 3 weeks before we reach the Capital. So,” He pauses, taking a steadying breath, “Convince me, within that time, and I’ll turn around and take you right back to where I found you.”

You can't keep yourself from reaching through the bars and grabbing his arm, "You swear it? You swear on the life of your ship! Because I promise you I can show you that love is not fruitless, it doesn't have to leave you empty! We don't have to fight for things if we can use words. If we can shape the future,”

You're rambling again.

He chuckles at your eagerness, not pulling away from your grasp, “Hope will do strange things to a troll, won’t it? Aye, I swear on the well-being of my ship, and give you my word as a Sailor. If you can pull this off, I’ll let you go on your way gladly.”

You rub your thumb along his arm, feeling the slight dampness of his shirt, "I will give you my best. I will show you the beauty of the world again,”

He sighs before pulling his arm from your grasp and unlocking the door of your cell, “Come on then, out you go.”

You exit your cell and nearly run up the stairs to the deck and breathe in the sea air. "So, Cyrrus, what would you like to know first?"

He follows you at a more reasonable pace and leans against the railing of the deck, “Well, where do you usually begin?”

"Where do I begin? Well, let me see. Oh! What is the difference between you and any of your crew?" You gesture to the trolls around you

He thinks for a moment, frowning at his crew, “Well, I’m the captain, obviously. And I’m the only one competent enough to keep this fuckin thing goin. I'm also the highest violet here. Or anywhere.”

You rub your eyes, "Not what I meant. But I was looking for the blood answer. You realize, that blood is just blood, right? Its just the liquid that flows through our veins. Yes, I understand that you are a seadweller, but that is just a genetic evolutionary trait! Some people are able to survive in the water, and some aren't. Tell me, why does that make you better than them?"

He scratches his nose, eyes darting around as if he’s searching for an answer, “Well I can survive on both. So… That obviously makes me genetically superior.” He seems proud of his answer, crossing his arms with a smug smile on his face.

You rub your temples, "Oh sweet jesus... NO. That makes you adapted to your environment. And I guess.. I guess that gives you the ability be a little superior, but not enough to consider yourself higher rank than any other living being." 

You've swept your arms out to the sides, "Take Aevone for example!"

The brownblood hears his name and looks at you from across the deck. Cyrrus furrows his brow, looking between you and Aevone.

“What, the swabbie? What about him?”

"What is the difference between you and him? What makes you superior other than your gills? Nothing. You're both people, you live and breathe and love and hate. You really do.   
Believe me, there is no difference in the value of your life or his." You're practically bouncing as you speak.

He gives you a sour look, turning away. Shit, did you say something wrong? You thought you were doing pretty well. 

"Ah, forgive me, did I offend you?" You reach out to touch his shoulder, he's visibly broader with his cape off. "Please, do not misconstrue my observation as an insult!"

He jerks away from your touch, his expression very similar to that of a pouting wriggler, "Of all the fuckin' trolls you coulda used for a comparison. It had to be that asshole."

"Asshole?" You walk around him, looking him in the face, "Aevone has shown me nothing but kindness for my entire time on your vessel. What could he have possibly done?"

He hesitates, chewing at the inside of his cheek for a moment before growling out, "Wounded my fuckin pride, that's what."

"Wounded your..." You raise your eyebrow once more, "There is more between you two than you've let on."

He’s silent, staring at the horizon for a moment before shooting a glare in Aevone’s direction. You note the grimace he wears as he speaks, "That's not somefin I'm about to share with you lad. Not in the slightest."

You sigh and nod your head, "Then we shall move on to another topic of equality? Perhaps your favorite topic?"

"You're not about to start spoutin' love at me, are ya boy?" He seems to perk up a bit all the same, giving you a raised eyebrow instead of a scowl.

"Oh you know I am." You crack your knuckles, "So, I've heard you don't have much luck with love."

He scoffs, "Quite tactful, ye are, eh?"

"Oh please, I trip over love like a newly pupated wriggler getting used to their legs." You chuckle.

"You seem to have quite a lot of it, though."

"I have more love to give than you would ever believe. It is because of this, that I think we can move about situations without that violence that we have been taught and have had ingrained in us

“But why change a system that works perfectly fine the way it is? Hatred is what’s easy, it comes naturally.”

"Do you like killing people?" You look at him, face serious. "Do you like hating?"

He pauses and seems to actually stop and think about this for a moment. “Pretty fantastic when it’s all you know.”

Your expression is blank for a moment. "It doesn't have to be," You say as you place a hand on his forearm.


	7. Entry #7

Signless: Be Dualscar again

 

About a week. Maybe a little more. And this boy just. Won’t. Stop. He’s been spouting love and peace at you constantly since your little proposal. God fucking dammit. You’re actually starting to believe bits and pieces of it, too. This is bad. You thought you’d just tease him, thought there was no way he could sway you, but here you fucking are. Falling for his heresy like some stomped-on lowblood.

Speaking of the boy, it’s been silent for over fifteen minutes. Where the fuck is he? You decide to look for him, swaggering your happy ass up to the deck. You see your crew gathered in a small circle, Karcin sitting on a barrel in the center. What is he spouting now?

You lean up against the railing of the deck, turning an ear to the lecture. It wouldn’t hurt to hear a small amount of what he’s been preaching to your crew, wouldn’t want him giving them any ideas. The deal was that he convince you, not turn your crew against you.

“You actually believe that you can change someone? Just by making them listen to your silly ideals?” a teal blood asks, arms crossed over his chest.

“I’m not looking to change someone, I’m looking to… change their perspective of the world.” Karcin replies, a crooked grin gracing his features. “Show them that love and equality is a valid method of leadership.”

A blue blood leaning against the railing scoffs, “So you want to try and sway Her Imperious Condescension into being loving.”

“Ah… well.. when it comes to Her, things are quite a bit more complicated.” Hold on, you don’t like where this is going. “Sometimes, there are those who are incapable of love.”  
You narrow your eyes, starting to walk over as he continues.

“Of course, I could tell her just about anything, but hate and death have been so ingrained into her, that there is a chance that there is no hope left for her.” He states this like its common fucking knowledge, and that pisses you off. You shove the nearest member of your crew aside, stalking up to him and knocking him off that fucking barrel with a glower.

“Cyrrus? What the hell are you doing?” He looks up at you with that stupid face of his.

You get in his face, a low growl starting up in your throat as you shove him back against the railing behind him and grab him by the throat, fangs bared.

“You will speak no ill of my Empress, swine.”

“P-please, Cyrrus, I meant no ha-harm!” His throat tenses and trembles as he swallows, you enjoy the fear on his face.

“You have NO right to call me that!” You squeeze his neck with a snarl; he lets out a small noise of discomfort. “Don’t you fucking dare try and act like you know a thing about me, mutant. I could kill you at any moment. I’d tread a bit more lightly, if I were you.”

You lean him over the railing, pushing him by his throat and threatening to push him overboard. Your grip on his neck shifts as you do so, brushing against something oddly familiar. With a twitch of your eyebrows you loosen your grip on his neck and rub your thumb over the protrusions there.

“O-Orphaner wai- nnngggghh~” His sentence trails off into a pleasured noise. “D-don’t…”

His voice wavers and cracks, suddenly very breathy. What the fuck? You brush them again, the grip he had on the railing loosens and you do nearly send him overboard. You pull him back quickly and bend to take a look at what you’ve been touching, holding his chin up with the hand previously around his throat. And ho-ly fucking shit. Those are.. Gills?

“What the fuck is this, lad?! You didn’t go sproutin’ gills on me, did ya?”

“N-no, I’ve had them all my life. Please stop tou-touching them.” His face is flushed as he speaks. What else is this fucking mutant going to sprout next? Fins? Maybe a fucking tail?  
You release his neck, looking him over. The crew had quickly dispersed after you knocked him off that barrel, “What the fuck lad?”

“What do you mean what the fuck? I should be asking YOU what the fuck? You just think you can come up and fucking shove me? And then hold me by the neck, and threaten to leave me stranded in the ocean? What the fuck is your problem? Who the fuck do you think you are?” He’s nearly screaming at you now.

You narrow your eyes, forgetting about the gills for a moment as anger shoots through you again. “Your fucking superior. Your captor. You think I’m your friend? No, I am second only to the Empress on this fuckin’ planet, and I decided to be generous with you. What do I get in return? Heresy. Heresy and LIES. You will stop your treasonous talk. If it weren’t for the fact that I know you’d survive now, I’d throw you off my fuckin’ ship.”

His expression fades to one you’d never thought you would see on his face, he looks almost.. disappointed in you? Those fucking brows of his knit together, and his mouth is nothing more than a tight, straight line. His eyes lose a bit of their luster.

“I thought there was more to you.” His voice is quiet.

Your stomach drops as you meet his eyes, stepping back from him. Clenching your shaking hands into fists, you straighten to your full height and lift your chin, jaw locked.

“Get out of my sight.”

“Gladly.” 

You call for Aevone, ordering him to lock up the traitorous mutant. You watch as Karcin practically leads Aevone to the brig. As he leaves, you deflate a bit. The crew is watching you warily and you glare at the lot of them.

“The fuck are you all looking at? Get back to work.”

You storm off to your quarters, cracking open a bottle of brandy and drinking straight from the bottle. Fucking mutant prick. Fuck his ideals and morals. How dare he even think of bad mouthing your Empress. Does he have no respect? You take another long drink from your bottle of brandy. Reveling in the burn at the back of your throat.


	8. Entry #8

You should have just thrown him overboard. Or ripped out his gills. He doesn’t deserve them. He doesn’t.. he.. oh, just fuck him! You take a deep swallow from your bottle, staring at the contents.

This asshole has some nerve. Saying he’s disappointed in you… Well, he can join the long list of trolls who’ve told you that. You care about none of them. None but one. The only reason you keep trying to improve yourself, the reason you are who you are. That he would say such a thing. Turn your words around and twist them to apply to her, the only troll you could ever love… A pang shoots through your chest and you drain the rest of the bottle to numb it.

The look of his eyes doesn’t leave your mind. You hate it. You hate him, you stand, leaving the bottle on your desk. Who gives him the right to look at you like that? Maybe you’ll go and beat his face a bit so he can’t fucking look at you that way again.

You head below decks, stumbling a bit on your way down and entering the room containing the line of small cells. You then proceed to grip the bars of the one containing him and glower at him, daring him to speak.

“Drunk again, Orphaner?” There is no hint of teasing in his voice.

He’s picking at his blunted-down claws as he looks up at you flatly and you grit your teeth as his words hit you right in the chest. “I think I know why I don’t like you.”

“Shame. I really don’t have a quarrel with you. But enlighten me, why do you not like me?” he stands, leaning on the bars in front of you.

You grip the bars tighter, taking a deep breath to quiet the rage coiling in your stomach before you speak, “You’re a fucking thief, that’s why. Nothing so petty as goods, but you steal words. You twist them, turn them around to fit your own ideas of the world and steal the hearts of those too stupid to know what love really is. You know nothing of love.”

He growls at you. Slamming his hands against the bars. “You do not know of the love I have shared! I have seen greater kindness, greater love than you could ever imagine! I have experienced love that transcends all quadrants, because there is no way to contain the love you hold in simply four quadrants. There is so much that you don’t know, that you could know, if you would only ALLOW yourself to fucking love someone who wanted to love you in return.”

“Do NOT tell me of what I do and do not know! You know nothing of what I feel! The things I’ve done, the…” You pause with a huff, you almost said too much, “Kindness is a farce, a lie implicated for those who use it to get what they want.” 

You’ve backed away from the bars now, back hitting the wall behind you. You slide down it into a sitting position and glare up to him through the bars of his cell, “And anyone who says otherwise is one of them.”

“I knew there was more to you. More, and you just won’t say it. I am not going to judge you, or look at you any differently.” He’s still leaning on the bars. “Tell me the things you’ve done.”

“Why should I tell you any more, give you more of myself to twist around and use to insult her?”

“I did not mean to insult her, I was stating a fact. She has lived for sweeps with the ideas of hate and fear and death being drilled into her think pan that love could be a completely foreign concept to her. I didn’t mean to use your words. I didn’t mean to say things that you had told me to bring offense to her, or you.” His words ring with sincerity.

“I’ve been living with the same ideas for as many sweeps as her. Why do you think you can change me?”

“Because, there must be some hope in you if you’re here listening to heresy.” He blinks those bright red eyes at you. Slow and lazy.   
You grit your teeth and look away from him, “Are you familiar with what the title of ‘Orphaner’ means?”

“Yes. You kill lusii. Regardless of caste ranking.” He states as if he read it from a book and memorized the passages. Chances are he probably has.

“And do you know why?”

“That part I do not know.”

“I’m sure you’ve heard of the shared lusus of all rulers of Alternia, Glyb’golyb, yes?”

“Yes. “ 

“I kill those lusii to feed that fucking lusus and keep everyone alive. If it weren’t for me, she would be angry. Half the planet would be dead within a sweep. And the rest within one more.” You clench your fists, taking a shaky breath, “And I’m met with only disdain for it.”

“I don’t hold any disdain for you.”

“You would if you know what I know. That mother of yours. You shouldn’t have had to be raised by a troll.”

He tilts his head, brows knit in confusion. “What do you mean?”

“There was a lusus, with candy red blood. I found it near the caverns, 11 sweeps ago.”

His eyes widen, “You’re lying. You’re trying to hurt me, or scare me. You’re full of shit.”

You continue, still not meeting his eyes, “It was a crustacean of sorts, a crab-like thing. I decided to put it out of its misery, there were no trolls with blood that color to give it purpose. So I killed it.”

He slams his hands against the bars again, “YOU ONLY HAD TO WAIT ONE FUCKING SWEEP! JUST ONE! I WOULD HAVE MADE IT OUT OF THE CAVERNS! AND HE WOULD HAVE FOUND ME!” Cherry tears slid down his face, you could hear it in his voice. 

He falls to his knees, holding onto the bars so tight his knuckles are white. “But.. I still hold n-no disdain for you… because this has allowed me to see acts of kindness. Allowed me to befriend trolls of all nature.”

You brace yourself, preparing for the inevitable ‘but’ that is to follow.

“I forgive you Dualscar.”

You freeze, looking up from the ground. “You forgive me.”

“I forgive you. How could you have known that I would have been hatched?” His voice is calm and cool.

You swallow hard, standing. It sends a wave of vertigo through your body, still intoxicated as you are. You walk over to his cell and pull your key ring from your belt, unlocking his cell door and turning away from him as you start to exit the room.

You hear the telltale sound of footsteps, catching up to you. “You’re not going to go and drink some more are you?”

You grunt in response, struggling your way above decks and making your way to your quarters. He’s still following you. Silent now. What the fuck is he planning now? You open the door to your quarters with a creak, ignoring him as he follows you in and pulling a bottle from the crate near your desk.

He snatches the bottle from you, hopping his skinny ass onto your desk and popping the bottle open before taking quite a long swig. “Bluhh, it tastes briny.”

You growl at him, “Give that back. Obviously you can’t appreciate good liquor.”

“You have clearly had a lot to drink already. You can’t pretend I haven’t seen the empty bottles lying around.” He takes another drink, making another face as he swallows. 

“You’re a shit, you know that?”

He opens his mouth, a small quirk on his lips, then hesitates. He closes his mouth and shrugs, “We all already knew that.”


	9. Entry #9

The next few days are blended together in events. You start to notice things. Small things, about your captive. How his small, blunted teeth catch against his lip when he pauses to think about something, or the way his face lights up and becomes animated when he's preaching. The fire in his eyes when that passion alights in him, and the... rather sensual way he moves those decidedly less scrawny hips of his as he walks. He's gained a bit of weight since coming aboard, probably due to a proper diet and not just scrounging for scraps, and it definitely shows... You're.. A bit terrified at the way your bloodpusher aches thinking about him. This cannot happen.

You watch him as he pesters your crew, especially Aevone. Little runt has grown attached to the brownblood. You watch as he scolds two teal bloods about some kind of insulting slur that they used. Its... quite entertaining actually

He's quite fiery, this cherry of yours. And he's been doing good for the morale of your crew. Perhaps it would be better to hide him, keep him around for a while... The capital doesn't know you have him, after all... But no. Such thinking could never end well. 

You're shaken out of your thoughts by a hand on your shoulder.

"You seem distracted there, love. Er, lad. Is everything alright?" He grins up at you.

You pause for a moment, staring at him. You shake yourself and look away.

"Aye. Everythin's just fine. Just... Considering a few things.."

He keeps his hand on your shoulder, "Considering what? The course we should be taking or the fact that your crew uses quite rude slurs?"

"Ah... Neither, actually."

This perks him up, "Oh? Then what's on your mind Captain?"

You don't think before responding, "You."

Shit. SHIT shit shit.

You never thought you would see the vibrancy of his blood, but damn were you wrong. His face lit up cherry red and he moves his hand from your shoulder. He looks up at you with wide eyes, "E...excuse me?"

You freeze, coughing, "Nothing.. I didn't say... Fuck," You scrub a hand over your face.

"Cyrrus, what were you thinking about me for?" He looks only a tad frightened

"I was... It's nothing. Just... Thinking about how you affect the crew. They've been in such a good mood lately. The lot of them." There. It's the truth.

He grins, "Little words of encouragement you know. It goes a long way, even Aevone is being treated better by the higher bloods!" He stands a bit straighter, happy with himself and the results he was getting.

Damn this little perky mutant.

You eye him, warring with yourself internally. What you want to do is… Wrong, entirely wrong. And unfamiliar. He’s your prisoner, and an enemy of the Empire. Even if you did shunt your duty to the Empress and go for it… He’d likely be repulsed, shocked. He’s not so stupid as to… Shit, you’ve been quiet for too long.

He glances up at you, "Cyrrus?"

You chew at your lip. “I don’t like you.” It sounds like denial, even to you.

His lips quirk into that stupid, annoyingly charming little fucking smirk, oh he's not going to..

"Shame. I have no quarrel with you."

You take a deep breath in through your nose before surging forward, pulling him close by a grip on his upper arms and kissing him fiercely. Fuck all your doubts. You need this troll. You need him more than you’ve needed anything in your entire miserable existence.

He lets out a surprised gasp, but doesn't push away, he doesn't pull back. But he leans into the kiss. He returns your kiss with vigor.  
It seems he wanted this as much as you did, maybe more? You can't believe that he wants you this way, that... anyone could want you like this.

You pull away, panting a bit and do what you're best at. Abscond the fuck out of there before he can say anything about it. Before he can change his mind. You hole yourself up in your quarters, back to the door. 

What. THE FUCK. Did you just do.

You hear him from above decks. "WHAT THE FUCK??"

Oh fuck you screwed up. You screwed up good

You slide down the door, breathing hard. You shouldn't have done that. Should have just taken him to the capital and forgotten about him, like you'd planned. Now... Now... Shit.

You hear the tell tale signs of someone bounding below decks. His steps are much lighter than any of your crewmen, he pounds his fist on your door. Your back shakes with the door.

"Cyrrus you mother fucker! Open this door!"

You scooch on your ass away from the door like the dignified sea dweller you are, calling out, "It's open," before scooting over behind your desk. You really do not want to face this right now.

He kicks your door open, strong little fella. "Cyrrus show yourself!"

You grunt from behind your desk before hauling yourself to your feet.

"What."

His face is still scarlet, "Get over here right now!" 

He stamps his foot and points in front of him. Demanding little shit. But still, you hunch your shoulders in and march over to him like a wriggler before it’s lusus, head bowed.

"You should have given more warning! You can't just jump up and kiss someone without at least making sure that they would be ok with it! Consider this my warning!"  
He then stands on his toes, moving your head and pressing a kiss to your lips. You freeze. Wait that’s… That’s all he wanted to reprimand you for? You pull away, giving him a bewildered look. 

"Hey! I was not finished." He's... pouting?

You stare at him, “You actually want this.”

"No, I'm kissing you because I hate the thought." He states flatly

You scoff, "Don't pull that sarcasm on me. I invented the shit."

"Then stop not kissing me!" He puts his hands on those.. very nice hips

You take a breath before leaning in again and kissing him deeply. Less hesitant and more hungry now. Fuck. You could get used to this. He's so... so warm its almost unsettling. Everything about him is heat. The searing press of his lips to yours, the tight grip he has on your shoulders. The look of him, even his blood is fire. And you are falling headfirst into the flames.

He pulls away, panting and trying to catch his breath, " C-cyrrus"

You take a heaving breath of your own, looking into those piercing eyes for the first time in… Well, since you first met him, in that pub. You’ve been avoiding those eyes of his. Avoiding the truth

“Hm?” You eloquently reply.

His mouth is open as if he wants to speak, but for the first time since you met him, he seems to be at a loss for words.


	10. Entry #10

Dualscar: Be the Signless

You are now the Signless, but you have no words leaving your mouth. There are thousands of thoughts running through your think pan as you look up at the seadweller before you. He's looking in your eyes, you stare right back into his. They're such a deep violet. You're almost jealous.

You look down and watch him swallow, shifting nervously. His eyes flick away from yours and you lament the loss silently. What is happening in your pan right now? Where can you even begin?

"Cyrrus.." There. That’s a good start. His eyes have flicked back over to yours. You’ve gotten his attention. Now you just need to say something. Anything. You open your mouth, and...

Nothing. 

Not a single word escapes your lips.

A pitiful squeak slips from your throat, "Ah fuck."

He looks at you, searching your face, and you can see him panicking. See it in the tightness drawing around the corners of his eyes. In how he deflates just slightly as he steps away from you.

"No no no! U-um! I'm not saying fuck you, I'm saying fuck me! Because for all the times I can talk, now , on this very important topic, I can't seem to get a word out and it is really quite difficult for me to process this and I don't know why, because honestly it should just be easy. You know? Like, saying, I'm flushed for you. Cause honestly it really is that simple! But the words are just... gone!"

You watch his face and realize what you've said. His brow furrows and he looks at you for a moment as if you’re some rough patch of waters to navigate, as if he’s trying to figure you out.

“You’re flushed for me.” He looks away, seeming to process this for a moment before- “Just how incredibly daft can one lad be.”

"Excuse me? Daft? Why the hell are you calling me daft?"

"Falling into flush with the likes of me. Especially considering the circumstances. You should despise me. I'm bringing you to your death."

Your face falls for a moment, you.. you had hoped you'd gotten through to him. Had changed his mind. You step back, arms at your sides, "Oh. Of course, silly me. A-and I had actually thought... Oh Cod I am an idiot.."

He takes you by the arm, looking alarmed, "I misspoke. Allow me to rephrase before you give me that look." 

He releases you, taking a step back and drawing in a heavy breath.

"I was bringing you to your death."

You raise your eyebrow, "Was? Captain?”

Does this mean that you were able to convince him?

He nods, turning his back to you and starting to pace nervously. 

“I’ve already given the order. We’re heading back to port. The one I found you at, that is. We’ll be making a couple stops along the way but.. Should have you back within 3 weeks, at the most.”

You're ecstatic at this news, "O-oh! Oh Cyrrus this is wonderful!"

He shoots you an odd look before sitting down at his desk, "Please, stop using my name. It will only make this more difficult." 

What? What is he talking about?

"Make what difficult? You aren't going to have me killed, that's worthy of a celebration!" Something in your bloodpusher tightens

You can see him grit his teeth together in the flex of his jaw. He's silent for a long moment, before his barely audible reply. 

"Forgetting you."

Your eyes widen and you back yourself against the wall.

"But… Cyrrus… I mean.. Captain. I thought… " 

You shake your head, refusing to tear up and he looks up from where he'd been staring at the grain of his desk, eyes tight. 

"Don't think I don't know exactly how this is going to go. I'll drop you off, you'll scurry back to your little family, and I'll never see you again. It's too dangerous, you would never risk coming back. There's no sense in getting more attached than I already have."

"And what gives you the idea I wouldn't come back? I have grown attached too, you know. I have feelings too! Don't you dare make decisions that aren't meant for one person to make!" Your voice cracks, shit. God damn it not now.

"What are you going to do then, negate every bit of knowledge I've gathered about exactly this sort of situation? I know how this shit works, boy. If you don't decide that you aren't coming back, it'll be your lusus forbidding it."

"She cannot stop me.”

"I won't play this game with you, Signless. It's not going to play out the way you think it is. It never does." His voice is strained with barely choked-back emotion. It's the farthest from flat or angry that you've ever heard him.

"This is NO game!" You step forward, looking him in the eye "I am flushed for you, you purple blooded bastard! If you kick me off this ship I can garuntee that you will find me hiding behind your ale once again. You understand that don't you?"

You're standing before him now. He stands to loom over you, nearly sending his desk toppling.

“You will leave this ship and not look back. I don’t care whether we are in the deepest red this planet has ever seen. I will not have you in this sort of danger! I can’t… If you’re found I’ll… I know she’ll…” He breaks off, voice raspy.

You lean forward and wrap your arms around his neck, pulling his head to rest it on your shoulder, "I will be fine. I will, believe me. No one will find out you're with me. "

You kiss his temple, then beside his ear.

He makes a choked off noise but leans into your touch regardless. This poor, love-starved creature. He lets out a shakey breath and draws in another to speak.

"Swear to me. Swear on everything dear to you that you will not put me in a position like that. Because I know. I know that I could not disobey a direct order from her. Don't make me make that choice."

"I will never make you do that. Never. I'm very careful when I preach." You nuzzle his hair, breathing in his scent.

He pulls you closer, taking a steadying breath and nodding.

“Alright. Yes. And Karcin?”

"Yes.. Cyrrus?"

"I'm flushed for you. So terribly. Depressingly flushed."


	11. Entry #11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is our longest chapter yet, woo! Also, be warned, this is where that explicit rating starts to come in! Ahead thar be the beginnings of porn. Yarharharhar. Heh. Cuz. Pirates. Yeah. Enjoy! ~Reg

Signless: Be the crew.

You cannot be the crew because there are too many people for one person to be. 

Instead: be Aevone.

You are performing your daily duties as Ophelia's appointed 'swabbie'. Karcin had just chased your Captain down the stairs to his quarters.

"He kissed him." Your teal blooded companion says to the cerulean blood beside him.

"Betcha he won't make it to second base until we port back where we started."

"Nah, he's much faster than that. He'll go all the way before the week's end."

More crew members start to gather around, "Aevone, c'mere. You're goin' ta mediate."

You walk over to the circle and look at them expectantly.

"I betcha ten gold pieces they'll fuck in at least a week."

"I bet ten that they won't."

"And what if they fuck before then?" your swabbie friend asks.

"Then Aevone gets the pot." says the higher blue blood.

"Wait, what? No no, please don't get me involved in this!" You say, but your words fall on deaf ears.

"So, its settled. Let the games begin."

You frown, leaning on your mop and opening and closing your mouth a few times to protest as they hand you their money to hold onto. You didn't ask for this. But, well... You stare at the multitude of gold coins in your hand. You furrow your brow a moment before shrugging and pocketing them. You suppose it can't hurt. If nothing else, you'll end up keeping all this. It's not a bad deal, really. In fact, you're probably getting the best end of this, come to think of it. Your frown spreads into a smile and you whistle as you continue mopping the deck.

\------------

That’s enough of that. Aevone: Be the little guy again

You have spent the last two days sleeping in the Captains Quarters, but you two have yet to pail. For the simple fact that you never actually have a moment to be alone with him! This is incredibly frustrating. In the worst of ways. But, what eats at you is that these past few days have gone without conflict. This raises a horrible fear in your gut. Mother has warned you about the days that feel too easy. A storm always follows the clearest night.

You lean over Ophelia's rail, watching the water. There is an eerie calm that seems to be settled over the ocean as well, you honestly can't complain much about that. You would hate to be sailing in a storm, as much as you love being on the water, you hate terrible weather. 

You catch yourself humming a shanty that the crew seemed to sing every day. You look over your shoulder at the crew, scanning for Cyrrus. He's nowhere to be found, and you frown, placing your hands on your hips as you walk across the deck. He hasn't gone and holed himself up in his quarters again, has he?

You decide that you're going to pull him out of that head of his. He gets far too wrapped up in his work and you know that no one will bother him while he's working. Which means no one will bother the both of you if you decide to... HELP him out with whatever work he's doing

You make your way across the upper deck to the door to his quarters and enter the main room of the small collection. He's not in here, most likely he's locked away in his study. You take a deep breath, unzipping your leggings down to your hips and folding the top of your them down so hipbones peek out from above the fabric. You run your fingers through your hair, ruffling it up to be sufficiently messy. Thank god for your fluffy hair. You pat your cheeks to get some color in there, hoping to make yourself look flustered, or at least as aroused as you feel.

You open the door to his study and lean on the door frame, "Well hello there, Captain.~"

His back is to you as you enter and he grunts, not looking up from his work. He pulls one of the multitude of maps in front of him closer to his face, squinting at it before scribbling something on a piece of parchment.

Oh. Hell no. He is not going to ignore you for one of his stupid maps. You sway over to him and wrap your arms around his shoulders, "Cyrrus, we're all alone~ How about you pay some attention to me?"

Theres the rustling of parchment as he moves things around, "Later, lad. I'm busy."

You growl. "No." 

You pull his chair away from his desk and take the map from his hand, and he stares at you, going to grab it back from you.

“Karcin. This is important, if you ever want to get home I need to do this.”

"Cyrrus." You get on your knees and pull his pants down to his ankles, "This is important too."

His eyes go wide and he looks down at you, sitting back in his chair, “Just what do ya think yer doin’ there?”

"Seducing you," You purr as you kiss his inner thigh, so very close to the lips of his nook

He hisses a breath in through his teeth, watching you with furrowed brows, "Karcin, not.. not now yo-"

You don't let him finish that sentence. You drag your tongue up the length of his half-unsheathed bulge, taking the tip in your mouth and humming. He lets out a strangled sound, tipping his head back. 

That's better. You moan around the tip of his bulge, tracing your fingers along the lips of his nook, but never pressing inside. You want to tease. He bites back another noise and his hips twitch as the rest of his bulge comes out to play.

“H-ahh… Karcin I have to-“ he cuts off again and curses, but doesn’t push you away.

You prepare yourself to take the rest of his bulge in your mouth. Just as you start to sink him further in, his moans filling your ears, the door to his study is thrown open.

He freezes with his hand in your hair, and doesn't turn his gaze to the door as he growls out, "This had better be important."

There's a beat of silence before the crew member speaks, "C-cap'n, an Imperial battleship has been spotted of the starboard bow."

He lets out a frustrated groan as he pushes you away, tucking himself back into his trousers. Clearly he didn't notice the look of panic on your face as he walked out of the study to assess the situation.

"Cyrrus." You try to get his attention, but he's focused on the problem at hand.

He moves to stand beside the troll with the looking glass, taking it from the much smaller troll, and grumbling, "Fuck."

You tap his shoulder to get his attention and he looks at you for a moment before shouldering away from you and looking back through the device, “Looks like a warship. Should be on us within an hour or tw-“

He freezes, looking back to you and your panicked expression as realization spreads across his face, “Oh. OH. Fuck.”

"FINALLY. DID YOU FORGET YOU WERE HARBORING ALTERNIA'S NUMBER ONE WANTED CRIMINAL?" You yell a bit louder than is probably appropriate

He glares at you, “Excuse me for being a bit distracted by the actions of that particular, ‘Criminal.’”

You raise your eyebrow, "Forgive me! I'm sorry that you haven't actually TOUCHED me yet!"

He rolls his eyes, “I have better things to worry about than the sex drive of someone barely into his double digits. Such as keeping him ALIVE.”

You cross your arms, "Fine. I hope you enjoy your blue bulge tonight then."

You turn your attention to the ship in the distance, worry creeping back into your core. "What are we going to do, Cyrrus?"

He sighs, handing the glass back to the crew member, “I suppose we’ll have to come up with a plan to keep you hidden.”

The troll looks at Cyrrus with a concerned expression, "Sir, what if they come aboard?"

Your eyes get wide, "Wait, come aboard? Is.. is that something that could happen? Cyrrus. Do people have that option?? Tell them no!" Your voice cracks.

He rubs at his temples, “Just.. Calm down, lad. It is a distinct possibility that they’ll come aboard, and there isn’t much I could do to stop them without looking suspicious. What if… We disguise you as a member of the crew? That way you’ll be hidden, but in plain sight. If you’re disguised it won’t matter if they see you.”

"Problem."

He looks at you, "Problem?"

You gesture at yourself, "I am significantly smaller than you and all of your crew."

He purses his lips, looking between you and the crew members, “Do you have a better idea?”

"Clearly I don't, lets just, get me in a disguise before they get too close?" You say, nervously glancing at the ship

He calls for Aevone and the brownblood comes scurrying over, “Aevone, get the lad some suitable crewman’s clothes. Preferably not too baggy.”

"But. He's so tiny." He responds.

"SHUT UP!" You yell at him, as he leads you to the crew's quarters and tosses a shirt that, despite looking too small for Aevone, is still a tad big for you. He opens another chest and pulls out a dirty brown bandana and a pair of trousers.

You give him a dirty look as you hold the waistband of the trousers to yourself. You’re practically swimming in them

"Oh dear."

"What? Aevone, what is it?" 

"I don't have any pants that will fit. Dear fuck." He runs back to Cyrrus to tell him

He comes scurrying back, taking you by the hand and leading you to an irritated-looking Cyrrus, who drags you to his quarters.

"Wait, Cyrrus where are we going?" You nearly trip down the stairs into his quarters.

He doesn't answer you, instead focusing on looking through a chest you didn't notice was there After tossing a few things over his shoulder, he surfaces with a pair of striped trousers. They're a faded blue and a grey that looks like it used to be black, and worn at the cuffs as if they were too long for the previous wearer.

He tosses them at you, "Here. These should fit."

You take off your leggings and slip the trousers on, they fit perfectly, other than being a bit snug in the rear. You pull on the shirt Aevone had given to you and tie the bandana around your head so that a bit of your hair stays in your face. 

"Perfect fit!"

He snorts, “Would ya like to know where those are from, lad?”

"Yes, I must say they're quite nice." You look at him, a slight smile playing on your lips

“They’re mine,” he pauses, giving you a wry smile, “From when I was 6 sweeps old, that is.”

You blush. 6 sweeps? SIX SWEEPS? You really are a tiny fucking shit aren't you? 

"Nuh-uh"

“Oh but it’s true. You’re but a wee thing, aren’t ya? But we all already knew that.” He grins, ruffling your hair, “Proper little sailor, ye are though. Look atcha.”

You suppose you do look the part, Aevone runs down to the two of you, "Cap'n. They're closing in"

Cyrrus gestures to you with a flourish, “The lad’s just about set, but he is missing one thing,” he winks at Aevone, “You know what to do.” 

You notice the mop in Aevones hand. He squeezes the water from the mop and smears it across your face. 

"OH. MY. GOD,"

Cyrrus lets out a bark of laughter, rubbing your shoulder, “No proper sailor is as clean as ya keep yerself, lad. It had to be done.”

"You could have given me a proper warning!" You frown as Aevone leads the two of you upstairs. 

"Sir, the ship is preparing to stop. I'll keep an eye on Karcin and make his performance believable."

He nods at Aevone, heading to the railing at the bow of the ship and watching as the other approaches, back straight and taking on an air of arrogance. The Cyrrus you know disappears in that moment. All you can see once again is Orphaner Dualscar, fierce and intimidating. You try your hardest not to be unsettled by this as you take up a mop and bucket next to Aevone and pray that all goes well.


	12. Entry #12

When you finally tear your eyes from the intimidating sight your captain makes when fulfilling his role and persona, the crew is already madly scrambling to complete their individual roles. You don't think you've seen any of them move this fast before, and it's quite a sight to behold. You don't realize you've been standing there uselessly for quite a few minutes until Aevone pushes you towards the main mast. 

"Whatever you do, try to stay in the shadows. Try to look busy."

You nod, watching as the rest of the crew rushes to make their vessel look more.... well, you think they're trying to make it look like this ship hasn't been cleaned properly in weeks.

"Why are they doing that?" You ask, and Aevone turns to you.

"If the ship is a mess, the chance is far less likely for the prissy high blood to board us."

The warship, massive in size, slows and stops beside Ophelia. A seadweller stands tall, looking over the rail towards you. 

"Oi! Who's Captain of this vessel?" He calls out.

"Orphaner Dualscar!" Cyrrus replies in a booming voice. The other seadweller shrinks a bit, he must be lower than Cyrrus in caste.

“Ah. Orphaner! Pleasure running into you! Her Imperious Condescension looks forward to your presence at the Capital,” The seadweller captain calls back to him, speaking with the highest respect.

You dip your mop in the container of water at your feet and start to mop sloppily, keeping your head down as he replies, nodding, “Yes, well. I’m afraid my next appearance will be a bit delayed. I’ve come across new information on the whereabouts of a target. We’ve changed course accordingly. Here’s hoping she’ll understand. Work comes before leisure.”

“Precisly! I knew she chose..” His words trail off and you look up, only taking a moment to realize your mistake, “Oi! Orphaner, what, uh, what happened to the runts horns over there?”

FUCK. You’re dead. You’re a huge fucking idiot, you really are. Cyrrus is going to beat you senseless, the captain is going to board the ship and you’ll be found out. Unless Cyrrus is quick on his feet, that is. 

He clucks his tongue, “Ah, he’s a bit of a special case, that one. Found ‘im in a sorry state, far as I know it was a cholerbear attack, both of ‘em were broken. Was tryin to file ‘em down himself so they’d be even. ‘s quite a shame, that. But he’s a fighter, for as small as he is.”

You fight the urge to shoot him a dirty look and focus on a suddenly very interesting board on the deck.

“Whats the lads name?”

He pauses, “K-… Kar, uh… Kraken. Yes.”

“Kraken…right…Well, we could sure use men like him on our warships, if he’s ever interested in serving Her Imperious Condescension in a more… action filled manner. Tell him to sign up, we’re always looking for willing fighters.” 

With that, he barks a few orders at his crew and carried on his way.

You turn and walk up to Cyrrus as soon as they were on the horizon, “KRAKEN??”

He jolts and turns to you, looking affronted, “What? I thought it was pretty fackin’ good for somethin’ I came up with on the fly,”

“Right, of course, Kraken is a very convincing name. Surely not FAKE.” You hit him in the shoulder “I can’t fucking believe he bought it!”

He scoffs, “Well he did, so you’re fuckin’ welcome.”

You smirk, stepping closer than would be socially appropriate, walking your middle and index fingers up his broad chest “Thank you, Captain.”

He raises an eyebrow, “The danger got ya feelin a bit rowdy, lad?”

You respond by pulling him down into a kiss, pressing yourself against him and dragging your teeth against his bottom lip. He groans against your mouth, his hands resting on your waist. You deepen the kiss then, parting your lips and licking over his lip. He responds quickly, parting his own lips and dragging his tongue against yours with a soft grunt.

There’s hoots and whistles from the crew as you slide your hands down his front and push yourself away from him, breathing heavily. He stares at you, hands still firmly on your hips.

“I’ll take that as a yes, then?” He’s also slightly out of breath.

“Well, that’s not something for you to worry about. As you said, I’m barely into my double digits and you shouldn’t be concerned about my sex drive.” You smirk and walk away from him, swaying your tightly dressed rear much more purposefully.

You can feel his eyes on you as you make your way to his quarters for your own clothing, and it’s damn satisfying. Give him a taste of his own medicine, this time. Besides. You don’t really need him to touch you. You don’t. You’ll do perfectly well without it, since he’s seemed so disinterested. As soon as you’ve gotten out of your pants and started pulling your leggings back on, there’s the clatter of a door opening, “Cyrrus please, I’m changing.” 

You don’t turn to face him, but you hear him move closer, “I’m serious. Don’t come any closer.”

You hear him sigh, “Ya know I didn’t mean it that way, lad.”

“I don’t care. It came off that way, and it was slightly hurtful. Whether that was your intention or not, well, that’s incidental.” You huff, closing your eyes and tilting your head so your nose was in the air.

He ignores your warning and comes up behind you, placing his hands on your waist as you get your leggings zipped up. He leans down and noses at your neck, “Come on lad, you know I’m just interested in your safety. It ain’t anythin’ personal.”

No. Nope. You will not give into his sweet nothings. You refuse to bend to him, not even as his hands go up your chest and caress the small amount of exposed skin above the hem of your pants.

He starts to kiss at your little gills then, rubbing at your shoulders with a firm hand. You shiver, hating how easy it was for him to draw a soft moan from your lips, you tilt your head back, “F-flushed… for you..”

You feel his lips quirk against your neck as he continues his ministrations, murmuring against your skin in reply, “Flushed for you too, Kar,”

You press your hips against him, grinding into him and letting out another moan. You start to tug at your zipper, slowly, taking your time with it.

He reaches in front of you then, placing his hands over yours and pulling the zipper right back up before turning you around and tilting your chin up with a thumb. You just give him an affronted look as he presses his lips to yours, soft and chaste.

You sigh against his lips, pulling back, “Is that a ‘not tonight’ then?”

He purses his lips and nods, “I’m sorry lad,”

You gently pat his chest, then lean your forehead on him “Fine.”

There’s a knock on the door before it’s cracked open, “Captain, we’re preparing to port.”

The two of you break away from each other as he calls out, “Right, thank you.”

He pats your hand before leaving you to pull your cloak on and heading above decks. You follow, trying hard not to show your slight disappointment in the fact that he still doesn’t want you.


	13. Entry #13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> While Dualscar is, in fact, a surly grumpy pirate man, let's not forget that he is also an Ampora. (Read: Hopeless romantic)

Signless: Be that conniving little cockblock

You are now Cyrrus and you are quite excited to port. You have quite the surprise for Karcin, despite how much you dislike being land-locked, you would have to stop at the market to get the proper supplies for your flushmate. You love the way that sounds. Your matesprit. Your flushmate. Your Karcin.

As much as you hate to admit it, you are one sentimental bastard. You’ve noticed how eager Karcin is to consummate your matespritship. The poor lad is practically desperate for it, and while you hate to make him wait, you want to make this at least somewhat special.

You’ve had your fair share of whores, in the past, and it’s always gone the same way. You press the coin into their palm, lead them back to a room at some shithole inn, and engage in the sort of frenzied sex that desperation and a time limit will cause. You don’t want that sort of experience for Karcin. He’s your matesprit, not some backalley wench, and you’ll treat him as such, impatience be damned. 

You hate the look he gives you when you tell him he has to sit and wait on the ship with Aevone. He groans and pouts, but he stays and watches you hop off your ship with a herd of your crew. 

Now, for the list of things for tonight. You know you want to have some of those odd smelling candles that the one woman sells down the main street of this small port town. You feel that he probably likes things like that. You consider purchasing a bunch of roses to strip of their petals and spread. That seems fittingly romantic. You think you’ll do that.  
And a bottle of nice wine. All you have aboard the ship is that briny ale that he seems not to care much for. You’ll probably have to pick up some proper ingredients for your cook as well. You won’t be feeding him the normal grub tonight.

Oh ho ho, no. You’re going to sweep the little runt off of his dainty feet. You decide to stop at the wine cellar first. Purchasing a rich red wine that the lad is positive to love. You pick up at least four roses to strip the petals from. 

You wonder how the lad is doing. Probably talking Aevone into a corner.

You whistle to yourself as you make your way back to the docks, arms laden with packages. You instructed Aevone to keep Karcin occupied somewhere where you could make your way back onto the ship and to your quarters unseen. It looks like he’s done his job, as the two of them are nowhere in sight as you climb the gangway up to the deck and slip down to your quarters after bringing the supplies to your cook. 

You hear Karcin above decks giving Aevone an earful about how its cruel to keep two people away from each other with no actual reasoning. Oh that poor lad. You’ll have to get him something. Maybe a woman. Or a man. Eh, who really cares, you’re going to make sure that boy has a good time.

You start to set up your little date. First comes the study. You drag your desk to the center of the room and clear it of all the charter maps and other bullshit you have before spreading a white cloth you’d gotten from market over it. You then drag an extra chair from the galley and place the two you have on either side of your makeshift table. Then comes a sprinkling of petals from your first rose and two candles. You crack the blinds on the porthole just slightly so a small amount of light will come in when it’s daylight, and eye your work with a small smile. One room down. 

Then comes the sleeping quarters. Your bed is quite nice, you’d made sure to invest in a good one once you’d outgrown the need for a ‘coon. But the sheets are quite rough. You bought a nicer set at market. Some sort of slick slidey cloth. Silk? Satin? You don’t really care. You just spread them out over the bed and sprinkle the petals of two of your roses over them, using the final rose to lead a trail from the door to the bed. 

You take another moment to eye your work. Fuck yes. You are one smooth fucker. He’s gonna love this shit. After another moment admiring your smooth fucking romantic scene, you head down to the galley to fetch the food from your cook.

After you finish setting up your table, you go above decks, searching for Karcin. “Lad? Where did you run off to?”

He and Aevone come up from the crew’s quarters, laughing, “You’re finally back? What took you so long?” 

You give a slight smile, wrapping your arm around Karcin’s waist, before handing a small bag of coin to Aevone, “Go down to the tavern and buy the men a round on me.”

He nods and makes his way down the gangway and off the docks, you pull Karcin towards your quarters, “You never answered me Cyrrus.”

“I was busy gettin’ a few necessary things, don’t worry about it.”

You hold the door for him before the two of you descend into your quarters, and then hold open the door to your study with a small flourish.

He gasps, mouth hanging open. “Cyrrus..” He looks at you, “What happened to your study? What’s all this about?”

You grin at him, leading him to the table with an arm around his waist and pulling out a chair for him.

“Thought we could have a romantic day to ourselves, that’s all.”

He sits, a grin playing on his lips, “Who would have thought that you were the romantic type.”

“Hush lad, don’t spoil it.” You take the lid off of the tray sitting on your desk, you can practically see his mouth start to water.

“Good lord, you didn’t have to do all of this!”

“But I did, and there’s no sense lettin’ it go to waste now, now is there?”

You dish him up, and then yourself before sitting.

“Dig in, lad.”

Jesus you’d think the poor boy hadn’t eaten while he was with you with the way he was eating, “This is amazing. I’ve never had anything like this!”

Believe it or not, you’re actually impressed with how well your cook did tonight. You’d think he had something ridin’ on tonight with his performance. You watch Karcin as he eats, savoring every bite. 

“Glad you like it lad. But that ain’t the only surprise I got for ye tonight.”

He perks up at that, “There’s more?”

“You didn’t think I was just gonna feed ya tonight, did ya?” you stand, offering your hand and pulling him toward your room.

“Well, honestly I don’t know what to expect from you. You’re not exactly easy to read,”

You chuckle, keeping your eyes on his face as you open the door to your sleeping quarters and give a gentle push on the small of his back to send him into the room.

His eyes light up first, covering his mouth with both hands. He leans against you as he takes in the scene. “Cyrrus this is… whats all this for?”

He looks at you, eyes wide. You run your thumb along his cheek, caressing his face softly before leaning down and pulling him into a gentle kiss.

A low rumble starts in his chest, he kisses you back just as gentle. Almost… as if he was too nervous to kiss you any other way. You can feel the skin of his face warm with a slight flush as you move your hands to his waist and deepen the kiss yourself.

He makes a soft noise against your lips and loops his arms behind your neck. You give him a gentle push, backing the two of you towards the bed without ever breaking the kiss. 

He makes another one of those endearing little noises as you lay him down and climb over him. You break the kiss and look down at him. His eyes are half lidded and hazy with lust.

He swallows hard, arms still around your neck. “C-cyrrus..” 

You silence him with another, much less gentle kiss, drawing a moan from him. His legs, resting on either side of you, squeeze around your waist.

You press a few more heated kisses to his lips before breaking away to trail kisses down his jaw and neck. As you reach his little gills, you give a roll of your hips, grinding them down against his.

His head rolls back, allowing you better access at his gills. He moans for you and his fingertips dig into your shoulders as he rolls his hips in response to you.  
You lick over his gills lightly and prop yourself up with one hand, trailing the other down his side under his cloak and reaching between the two of you to cup at his crotch through those ridiculous leggings.

You feel his bulge writhing beneath the fabric of those fucking pants. You reach up and tug the zipper down, painfully slow.

“G-goddamn it just take them off already!” he snaps at you.

You give a soft chuckle and comply, pulling away to get them off of him and getting rid of your own pants in the process. You then take a grip on each of his thighs and use it to push him back farther on the bed and climb back up over him. He groans as you press him into the bed with your body and you can feel the slick coil of his bulge against your thigh.

You run your hand down his leg and toward his nook, running your fingers along the lips of it. His back arches, hips grinding down onto your hand, “F-fuck”

You grin down at him as you continue to trace over the slickness between his thighs, “Still wantin’ this, lad?”

“Fucking… YES I want it.” He groans as you tease a finger into his nook. Shit he’s tight.

You quickly withdraw your finger though, not wanting to catch him with your claws, and allow your bulge to twine with his. You let out a groan as you slide together. His is much more active than your own, writhing and coiling around you deliciously. It’s almost physically painful to pull your bulge from the grasp of his, but you manage and guide it back towards his entrance.

You meet his gaze. His eyes are soft and needy. “Please.. I-I need it…” His voice is soft.

You start to push in and he lets out a long moan as you begin to fill him. Fuck he’s… so fucking warm. Warmer than any lowblood you’ve had in the past. Almost uncomfortably so. Almost. You can’t help but allow a low groan to escape you as your bulge burrows into his slick heat, twisting and coiling. His body twitches with every motion you make, and his needy sounds are doing wonderfully terrible things to you as you lean down and start to mouth at his neck again.

His hands fall from around your neck to rest beside his head, his teeth catch his lip as he tries his best to keep himself quiet. It doesn’t work very well once you’ve buried yourself deep in his nook. He cries out in pleasure, hips twitching, his whole body practically begging for you to move. You pull away from his neck and meet his eyes, he looks wrecked already, chest heaving and face flushed that slightly unsettling bright red.

“Somethin’ you need, lad?”

“Yes, I need you to start moving.” He whines, rolling his hips, trying to get any kind of friction between the two of you. 

You smirk and happily comply, pulling out almost all the way, and pushing back in slowly. He throws his head back almost immediately, crying out as your bulge wriggles its way back into him. His face is twisted in a satisfying expression of pleasure, and you grunt as you start up a slow, sweet pace. You prop yourself up on one arm again and use the other to trail up his side, over his face and past it, above him, to twine your fingers with his.

“F-fuck… nnnggg” He moans, eyes screwed shut and mouth open. You watch his face every time you hit deep inside him, his legs shake as they wrap around you, “O-oh shit!”

You nose at his face as you pick up the pace a bit, kissing down to his neck again and burying your face against it, panting. You revel in every noise that falls from his lips and try to stifle your own to better hear him. His cries are getting louder and more frequent, and you idly think of how fitting it is, for him to be as vocal in bed as he is everywhere else.

You feel his nook get tighter around you, his hands grip at your shoulders once more and he whimpers, “C-cyrrus! I-I’m close!”

You speed up again, feeling your own peak approaching, and tighten your grip on his hand before lifting your other one and moving it up to twine with the fingers of his free hand.

He arches his back, crying out loudly as red drips from his nook, “Cyrrus!”

You bury your face in his neck, pushing yourself inside him once more and stilling as your violet material fills him and mixes with his cherry red.

The two of you lay there for a moment, breath coming fast as you come down from your sex high. Once you feel yourself able to speak, you nuzzle at his neck again and murmur against his skin.

“Flushed for you,”

“Fl..flushed for you too..” He yawns, wrapping his arms around your neck.


	14. Entry #14

Dualscar: Be Signless.

You are now Karcin Vantas, and you are so very content with your life. You have been waking up next to Cyrrus for the past few nights, and you couldn't have asked for anything more, except.. you have begun to notice he's become quite fond of the word 'mine'. Now, you are not a man that is beyond possession, but you are not one to be possessed. Especially not with.. your situation. Its not that you don't enjoy the idea of being exclusively Cyrrus's matesprit.. but.. your bloodpusher wouldn't forgive you. Your mind wanders back to your other lovers. Your family. Your friends. You miss them so much.

You know you have to tell him. You can't just go home and back to your two others without letting him know what he's gotten into, but you're afraid of how he'll react. There's that temper of his, and he doesn't seem the type that's used to sharing. There's also the fact that you've been halfway keeping this from him, lying through omission. You should have made him aware of this before you allowed things to progress this far but... Well, it's too late for that now. You steel your nerves and decide to rip it off like a bandage. You walk into his study and watch him, his shoulders hunched and maps strewn about his desk. "C..Cyrrus?"

He grunts, not looking up from the parchment immediately in front of him. He looks irritated about something. Maybe now isn't the best time... Perhaps... NO no, you have to do it now or you won't ever do it.

"Cyrrus, I need to speak with you"

He sets his quill down and shoves away from his desk with a frustrated groan, scrubbing a hand over his face and sighing as he turns to face you, "Aye?" You look at him, he looks so tired. You move toward him and run a hand through his hair 

"There is something I need to come clean about"

His expression turns wary as he sits back in his chair, "Come clean? That don't sound good, Kar."

You hesitate, beginning to feel a pang of hate toward yourself, "Cyrrus... I have to tell you that i practice polyamory

He furrows his brow and just stares at you for a moment, "Poly-what?"

"Polyamory. I have more than one.. romantic partner.. in my flushed quadrant" You look away

You can practically see the gears turning in his pan. He just gapes, silent for a few minutes before, “How many. How many are there?”

"Two others," your voice feels so quiet.

“And this was all established before… Before I even met you.” It’s more a statement than a question.

His expression is stiff, anger in the set of his jaw and the tight line of his lips. He takes a deep breath through his nose and stands, starting to pace stiffly and looking anywhere but at you.

"I suppose I shouldn't be surprised. That something like this would come up. It seemed too good to be true. But what I'd like to know is.." He turns on you, and his gaze is burning, angry, "How. Dare. You."

Your eyes go wide, "E-excuse me? How dare I? I understand that you are upset, or even angry with me. But how can you ask, 'how dare i'?"  
You feel a pang of hurt in your bloodpusher

“You’ve played me. Don’t think I’m some idiot wriggler who doesn’t know what this is. You’ve played love and adoration and acted like I’m somehow special to you, found all my FUCKIN’ weaknesses and pulled on them like I’m some puppet and you’ve got the strings. So I can drop ya off and ya can run off to your, what was it? Two? Two other options and pretend like this never happened. That ya never had to lower yourself so much as to play flush for this despicable fuckin’ wreck because who could really love somethin’ like that?”

"That is not fair! You know what I have preached! I do love you! I love you so much, goddamn it! Love cannot be contained to one person!" You shout

"QUIET!" And then he's in your face, all bared fangs and flared fins and barely contained anger.

"You're manipulative, that's what you are. You have a gift, it's true. You know just how to tug at a troll's pusher-strings in order to get what you want. I'll take no more of it. Be proud of yourself, you've snagged me in your fucking net well enough that I'll keep my word and bring you home. But if I see you again," He draws a breath in through his nose and slams his fist against the wall behind you before turning on his heel and storming out of his quarters.

You fall to your knees, shaking your head. "No... no no nonono" You curl in on yourself, you feel your bloodpusher breaking. It feels like its cracking right down the middle. Tears threaten your eyes and you take a deep breath, before letting out a loud scream. Distantly, you hear the slam of another door and the clinking of glass. Bottles, probably. He’ll be drinking.

You feel that numbness again. That gripping cold around your bloodpusher and your bilesac. The cold you haven't felt since your last argument with Psiioniic. 

You lay on the floor, curled under your cloak. Tears trickle down your cheeks and you rock slightly. Cyrrus will never forgive you. And you don't blame him. Perhaps he'd forgive you if you let the sun burn you to a crisp. There's one final slam, uneven retreating footsteps and then silence. You decide to walk above deck and wait by the mast for the sun to rise.

After you've managed to pick yourself up from the ground-after maybe twenty minutes of quiet self-loathing- and walk on shakey legs to the deck, you freeze as soon as you've got the door open. Cyrrus is on the far end of the deck, by the railing. You watch him knock back what you assume is the remainder of his bottle and throw it against the railing to shatter. Then he starts to strip, pulling his shirt over his head and tossing his shoes to the side.

Your brows knit together, "Cyrrus.. what are you..?" You watch him remove the remainder of his clothing before diving off the ship. You snap out of whatever numb daze you had fallen into and run toward the end of the ship, looking out over the rail "CYRRUS!"

He doesn't surface. No matter how much you look you can't find him and oh god, he's going to get left behind, lost at sea and what if he DROWNS out there all by himself because of your stupidity? As you wiggle your way out of your leggings and climb onto the rail, you hear Aevone call out to you. "Karcin wait!"

You ignore him and dive off into the water, resurfacing with a very loud, "OH MY FUCK THATS FUCKING COLD!"

As you turn to see the ship quickly moving past you, you realize just what a stupid mistake you’ve made. Because yes you have gills, but your body cannot handle this temperature and you are in no way a strong swimmer and the ship is leaving you behind and you’re pretty much fucked. You don’t even know what you thought you would accomplish with this. You squeal as something grabs you and that’s it, you’re dead, something has risen from the depths and is going to eat you alive and you’re never going to make it home. But then it starts talking. 

“Great FUCKING glyb’golyb lad, are you mad?!”

Cyrrus… Cyrrus has hold of you and is swimming in long powerful strokes and catching up to the ship. And wow. You really are ridiculously dull. He’s a seadweller. How the FUCK did you forget that?

"Who cares if I am? You fucking jumped off of the ship! I panicked! I was afraid you were going to die!" You don't bother to struggle against him, hell, you wouldn't blame him if he left you in the middle of the ocean for a kraken to eat you

“I’m a SEADWELLER you fuckin’ dolt. I was goin’ for a swim to clear my head! You, on the other hand, seem to have a fuckin’ death wish! Thought I wasn’t gonna be able to find ya once you pulled this stunt. You’re a lucky bastard, that I got to ya so damned quick.” He catches up to the ship easily and climbs the ladder on the side with you on his back, hauling you over the railing and hopping over it beside you.

“Would you actually care if something got me? It would make your job easier!” You let him drop you on the deck, you’re a shivering mess and you refuse to look at him.

He stares at you, “Kar. No.”

“Well, you just wanted to forget about this whole thing didn’t you? Pretend I was never flushed for you? Pretend that I never felt this way for you? Aren’t you just waiting for me to get to port so you can throw me off your ship and never look at me again?”

He sets his jaw, “That isn’t what I said.”

You look at him, wrapping your arms around yourself, god you’re stupid. And fucking freezing. “Its what you meant isn’t it!?”

He growls, “No! I’m fucking AGONIZING over this. I’m settin’ myself up to not be disappointed, when I take ye home and ya never fuckin’ come back! Just. Stop tryin’ to fool me. You’re goin’ home, it’s set in stone. Stop fuckin’ tormenting me.”

You stand and growl right back at him, “WHY WOULDN’T I COME BACK? I AM FLUSHED FOR YOU. AND I WILL FIND MY WAY ONTO YOUR FUCKING SHIP AND I WILL NOT LET YOU SPEAK TO ME IN SUCH A MANNER!”

You notice that the crew had stopped moving around the two of you. You’re still fucking shivering and fighting back every urge to go to his quarters and curl up under his cape and try to memorize everything that is him. You force yourself to stand tall and glare at his face, you refuse to let him have the last word OR get away with speaking to you in a way that makes you the villain.

He finally meets your eyes and you’re taken aback at the sight of violet tears falling from his face.

“Fine. Fine,” His voice is choked, smaller than you’ve ever heard it.

You look around at the crew and snap, “The fuck are you looking at? Get back to work!”

You grab yours and Cyrrus’s clothes and pull him to his quarters. You sit him on the bed, “Talk to me Cyrrus. What’s going on in that head of yours?”

He rubs frustratedly at his face and shakes his head, “I’ve said my piece. If you want to keep this up, so be it.”

You growl, “Will you just fucking tell me what you want! I want to stay with you, but I cannot love them any less. So you need to fucking PUPATE already!”

“What am I supposed ta’ think, lad? I told you I’d take ya home if you convinced me, and ya keep this from me until now. Am I supposed to really believe you have any sort of feelins for me, when I put somethin’ like that on your head?”

You stare at him, your blood boiling, “How dare you,” You grab him by his chin, forcing him to look you in the face, “How dare you ever insist that I don’t have feelings for you. Or that I would fucking lie to you about this, I am offended that you think so little of me.”

“It’s not about you! It’s nothin’ you’ve done wrong! It’s me, putting someone’s life on them convincing me to care and then allowing myself to think they would actually care about trash like that. Just. Stop.”

He storms into the crew’s quarters. You suppose he’ll be sleeping there tonight. You know you won't feel better until you speak with Cyrrus again. You just hope that you haven't destroyed his trust beyond repair, this time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Question time! We are pprrrroobably not going to finish this. However. This is not the last chapter we have written. In fact, we happen to have the last three, very lengthy chapters written and ready to go. It's just getting there that isn't happening. We've written and rewritten and deleted that middle portion so many times that it's kind of just gone kaput. So. We don't want to leave this just open, and we may eventually come back to it to finish the middle, but. Would you like us to summarize what's missing and then just post the ending? Because we know this would be an absolutely horrible place to just leave this hanging :(


	15. In which the authors lose momentum

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This 'chapter' will be a summary of what happens between the last chapter and the next four. We did too much all at once, and burned out. There may be more. That's a BIG maybe, but we figured hey, we have the last four chapters. And why would we leave you hanging when we have the ending, right?

The next evening, after much agonizing and soul-searching on both sides, Cyrrus and Karcin do manage to have a calm rational talk about the situation. Cyrrus is still hurt, but he acknowledges that there was a reason for Karcin's reluctance to share this, and they end up making up just in time for Ophelia to arrive at the port Cyrrus had found Karcin at. Karcin is excited about the prospect of introducing Cyrrus to his mother and two other matesprits, but Cyrrus is understandably reluctant at this point in time. So, they part ways for the moment, Karcin heading home and Cyrrus heading back out to sea to give Karcin time to explain to his family and have his reunion untarnished by Cyrrus' presence.

The Psiionic (Mitcah), Disciple (Mennym), and Dolorosa (Generally just Rosa, we're so creative, we know) are introduced. The reunion is tearful and happy, tinged by a bit of anger because of Karcin's recklessness in being taken in the first place. On being questioned about where he'd been for all these weeks, he shares honestly that he was kidnapped by Cyrrus, but changed the seadweller's mind about a few important things and ended up quadranted with him. Mitcah is furious, mostly out of anger at this nameless seadweller invading this safe place that he's cultivated for himself. Mitcah is revealed to have an internalized sense of loathing towards highbloods in general later on, due to his own slavery that he'd been freed from by Karcin sweeps ago. Mennym and Rosa are skeptical, but generally accepting of Karcin's trust in Cyrrus. 

Karcin takes to waiting by the docks for Cyrrus to come back to him, after about a week. All three of the others are not pleased with this development, afraid he will get himself into trouble again. After about two and a half weeks, Cyrrus returns, there's a sweet reunion, and Karcin takes him to meet the family. Before Cyrrus has even crossed the threshold, Mitcah is at his throat. This devolves into blows very quickly, the two of them fairly evenly matched in a fight that sets off a budding blackrom between the two. Rosa brings out her momma shoes and breaks the fight up before any damage to persons or property can happen, but the hostility between the two remains. 

There is maybe a sweep of smooth sailing (heh) wherein antics abound while everyone gets to know eachother better. Cyrrus is gone and present in fits and bursts, still attending to his duties as an Orphaner and spending the rest of his time with Karcin and company. The tension between Cyrrus and Mitcah continues to build, until the rest are itching for them to just make it official already. One day, when he comes back, something is off. Here we insert a gratuitous sex arc, wherein Karcin goes into heat for the first time. Headcanons abound, maybe that his mutant blood makes him an anomaly in that regard, so none of them are prepared for something like this. There's lots of sex. Everyone is doing it and Rosa spends most of it in hiding. Mitcah and Cyrrus have their first hate-sex and it is wonderful and aggressive, and then the heat is over and everyone is closer for the experience.

However, there was more to the problem of his heat than they realized. A few weeks later, Karcin starts showing the signs of pregnancy, which Rosa confirms, with her infinite grub rearing knowledge. Everyone is excited and happy to see who's they all actually are, and nervous at the idea of raising real actual trolls in the situation they've found themselves in. More headcanons on troll breeding and the like. Karcin ends up laying a small clutch of eggs, and everyone is fiercely protective, hanging around him and keeping him safe while he watches over the eggs.

Some undetermined amount of time later, the group seems to realize that the eggs aren't going to hatch. Karcin is in a fierce state of denial, and once they all finally manage to get him to leave the eggs, he falls into an almost catatonic depression, refusing to eat, sleep or do anything at all. He grieves for a long time that way, not preaching and neglecting his family, until mennym tough loves him out of it and things start to return to normal.

Karcin's sermons start to really pick up a following after he starts preaching again. So much of a following, in fact, that it is no longer safe for them to stay in the same place, due to highblood attention. Cyrrus suggests that they join him on Ophelia, and, much to Mitcah's dismay, he is taken up on his offer. Karcin is able to reach a much larger portion of the population due to this opportunity for wider travel, and momentum continues to pick up on his movement. He starts to get quite ambitious, giving speeches at larger and larger cities, closer and closer to the capitol. 

He gets the idea in his head that he will preach in the second largest city on Alternia, a days travel away from the Capitol itself. His entire party is very reluctant to allow him to do this, but he will not be swayed. Cyrrus drops the four of them off at the port nearest to it, and heads back out to his next assignment. This is where the next chapter picks up.


	16. Entry #??? 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So uh... Yeah. Those warnings? They start to come in right about here. Things are pretty heavy from here on out. You have been warned. We'll be posting the last three that we have, one at a time, over the next three days.

Your name is Cyrrus Ampora and you are worried out of your mind. You haven’t heard from Kar and the others since you’d dropped them off a city over from the capitol. It didn't sit well with you, you worried for him. He'd been gaining followers like mad, and this was incredibly dangerous. With every bit of attention he gains from the people, the hunt for him increases in ferocity. This close to the capitol, it was an incredible gamble, allowing him to preach. But the boy wouldn’t take no for an answer, no matter how much yourself and the rest of his family argued with him on it. And you are terrified of what Her Condescension will do if she finds out you are the one that has been harboring all of them. Killing the lot of you is the least terrible route she could choose.

You throw these thoughts aside as you enter the imperial palace. A week after you dropped Karcin and the others off, you'd been called in for a special duty. It's relatively routine that you are called to the palace. Your reputation as a brutal interrogator is known by many, and the Condesce does enjoy seeing you in action. You make your way to the large chamber the guards directed you to. The throne room. That’s… odd. Generally this is done in the dungeons, this must be quite the special case. You stand in wait outside the large doors, nodding to the guards standing to either side.

Suddenly, a troll’s cries cut through the silence and your stomach drops. You know that voice. A high blooded guard opens the door and leads you inside; you see the Condesce.

She’s holding Karcin by the jaw tight enough that her claws are drawing blood as her fuchsia gaze turns to you. Your pusher sinks in your chest.

“Ah. Hello Orphaner.”

“Good evening, your Highness.” You bow. Karcin’s gaze snaps to you as you speak, eyes widening and lighting up with hope. You can’t even look at him, coward you are. Not knowing what you’re going to have to do. You school your expression flat as you straighten, focusing your gaze on the Empress.

“Can you guess who I found preaching near the Capital?” She pulls Karcin by his hair, forcing his head up. He winces and cries out.

“Our little treasonous mutant was trying to turn my citizens against me.” She brings her leg back and kicks him in the stomach, still with an iron grip on his hair.

His face is scratched and tear-stained as he looks at you. His mother struggles against her bindings, screeching, “RELEASE HIM! PLEASE!”

You tighten your jaw, raising an eyebrow, “Why am I here then? You’ve caught him and his party. What more information could you possibly need?”

“Sweetie, someone was hiding this little bastard and his party,” She drops him to the ground and kicks him again. “I wanna know who.”

You swallow hard, trying your damnedest to hide your reaction from her. Karcin looks up at you from the ground, his eyes wide. The hope there is gone, replaced with horror.

“I see,” You nod, clenching your fists to hide your shaking hands.

“He won’t tell me a damn thing, but you~” she sways over to you, placing her hands on your chest, “You are just a tadpole bit more persuasive than I.”

You offer her a tight smile. This would have been your dream, before. You would have been dizzy with her closeness, done whatever she wanted and more to gain her favor. Now you just feel sick as you pull your knuckle bracers from your pocket and slip them on.

“I will do whatever it takes, Empress.”

“Beat the ship out of that little mutant.” She makes her way to her throne and sits, crossing one leg over the other.

Karcin looks up at you, swallowing hard, “I won’t give them up.”

You avoid his eyes, staring straight ahead as you rear back your leg and kick him hard in the stomach before lifting him to his feet by his hair and knocking him right back down again with a blow to the jaw. You’ve completely retreated from the situation, mentally, and it’s with a familiar numbness that you finally meet his eyes, staring at him coldly.

“I will… Never tell…” he says through pants. Looking up at you with those fucking eyes. You snarl and set a foot on his shin, pressing hard enough that you feel the bone bending beneath it. 

“Just give it up, boy.” Your voice is hard, demanding, but to you it sounds like a plea.

His mother and disciple beg for you to stop, the Condesce is giddy from the violence.

Tears rain down his face, “I will never. I would never forgive myself.”

“BREAK HIS LEG! Do it, Dualscar!” The Empress yells.

“Dualscar…” Karcin’s voice is quiet, “You… You may do as she commands. But I need you to know… I forgive you.” He chokes on the last few words, sobbing now.

You freeze, lifting your leg and staring at him before taking a step back and looking between the Condesce and Karcin. Your eyes are welling up and you blink, forcing them to stop. You can’t afford for that to happen. Not now.

“What’s the matter, Orphaner? Goin' soft on me?” There’s a different question buried beneath her words. You hear the click of her heels as she stands. She’s behind you now.

“You know what I think is glubbin’ hilarious?”

You frown, shaking your head and not turning to face her, “I’m… not sure I do, Empress.”

“You went out to sea the same time we lost track of our little mutant,” Her voice is low, a growl starting in her throat, “And you didn’t fucking show your face for months. Up until this fucking bastard…” She pauses.

“IS IN MY THRONE ROOM.”

Your eyes widen and your pulse quickens. She knows. Fuck, she knows.

“I told you where I was going, Empress. That is merely a coincidence, nothing more. Do you really think I would associate myself with a mutant and his group of dirtblooded lackeys?”  
Her hand trails over your shoulders and you tense.

“If he wasn’t with you, filling your head with lies…” She stands beside Karcin’s beaten and bloodied body, “Break his jaw.”

You huff out a shocked breath, looking down at Karcin and furrowing your brow, “But Empress, isn’t that… You would never find out who it was, if I did that. Isn’t that what you wanted?”

Karcin looks at you, eyes pleading. She looks down at him, then over to the Dolorosa with a devilish grin. “You’re right. Honestly, what you should do is break his ‘mother’s neck. If you weren’t with them, go break her neck and prove your loyalty. The only way this little fuck can save her is to spill it right fucking now.”

Shit. This isn’t what you wanted. But you aren’t sure you have a choice. The only way you can save Karcin is if you can get the Empress to trust you enough to let you go free… But if you kill his mother… God, he would never forgive you. He may not even go with you, if you try to break him out. You war with yourself as you make your way over to the Dolorosa, wrapping one arm around her shoulders and planting a hand under her chin.

“CYRRUS NO! PLEASE!” Karcin cries out, trying to get to his feet but failing. He tries to crawl over to the both of you. Tears roll down his face, “Please, Cyrrus. No. Not my mother…”

You freeze, dropping her and stumbling backwards. That’s it. He used your name, its over. There’s no way she can’t know after that. You shake your head, staring at him as your entire body trembles. You’re going to lose him.

“You cocky, double-crossing mother fucker!” The Condesce turns on you, lunging and grabbing your throat.

“Cyrrus? Is that your fucking name?” She scoffs, “He’s got you wrapped around his finger!”

You just stand there, no fight in your body as she squeezes at your throat. The only reaction she drags from you is a hiss of pain as one of her claws catch on your gills. She didn’t even know your name. It took a situation like this for her to know what it was. You stare at her, face blank and disgust coiling in your gut. 

She pulls her hand away, smirking, "But of course you can handle this kind of pain. Years of training and fighting and kissmeisitude has desensitized you to the pain. Hasn't it?"

She makes her way over to Karcin, who looks up at her nervously. "This little shit on the other hand, is as sensitive as a wriggler."

Within a moment her 2x3dent is being dragged down Karcin's back. He screams. Your eyes widen and you surge forward to stop her before being pulled back by a pair of guards.

“NO! You FUCKIN’ BITCH get away from him!”

"You don't like other people breaking your toys?" She grins like a fucking grub in a confectionery, "But… you were breaking him earlier, weren't you? I wonder how you're going to live with yourself, knowing you've beaten and drawn his blood."

She stabs his upper thigh and he cries out again, "STOOOOP! Please... I beg you..."

"Aww, look CYRRUS he's begging."

You snarl, elbowing one of the guards holding you in the gut and sending him to the ground before punching the other one in the jaw. You run forward once again, shoving her away from Karcin and making to tackle her before more guards are on you, pulling you away.

She laughs. She doesn't snarl or claw at you, she just fucking lays on the floor and laughs, "You think you can fucking attack me in my own throne room?"

You spit at her feet, still struggling against the guards, “I’ll fuckin’ kill you if you touch him again.”

She gets on her knees and crawls over to Karcin, an evil smile on her face. "Oh, you're so angry at everyfin~"

She moves her hands to his jaw, bringing him closer to her. 

"You don't like seaing me touch him?"

“GET AWAY FROM HIM!” 

You continue to struggle against the multitude of guards holding you back. They push you to your knees, binding your hands. You snap at one of them and earn yourself a kick to the jaw that sends you sprawling onto your side. There’s laughter as they step away from you.

"Stop it. Empress, please. I beg of you…" Karcin pleads. 

She stands and kicks him over, he's beside you now, hands bound in front of him and looking worn out.

"Shut the fuck up, scum."

You snarl, glaring at her, “If anyone’s scum here, it’s you. Your highness.” Your tone is scathing. 

Maybe it’s stupid to talk to her like this, but the worst she could do to you is already happening. She can’t kill you, she needs her Orphaner.

She digs her heel into the deep slice on Karcin’s back, making him scream again. "Watch your mouth heathen. I don't think your little lover can take much more of this."

You swear, wiggling yourself between the two of them, “Alright! Fine! What do you want? I’ll do anything you ask, just please. Don’t hurt him anymore.”

She grins down at you, "I want you to strap the Psiioniic into my ship as my new Helmsman. Your little lover here, will be executed tomorrow." 

She walks over and runs a hand along the Dolorosa's jaw, "This pretty little thing will become a slave and his olive blooded Disciple... we'll have her executed too. That. Is what I want."

Your bloodpusher turns to ice in your chest. Your voice is nearly inaudible when you speak.

"No... God no."

"You don't have much of a choice fishdick." She motions for her guards, "Take the jade and olive to a cell. Prep the jade for auction."

Karcin tries to sit up, "No.. Mother!" 

Rosa tries to crawl to him, but is lifted onto a guards shoulders, "NO! KARCIN! MY SON! PLEASE SPARE HIM!"

You look between the two of them, chest aching.

"I... Please, let me go in his place!" 

Its a desperate move, but you pray that it will work. You can't live without him, so you'll die for him if you have to.

The Empress walks over to you with a lazy stride, she grabs you by the horn and forces you to look her in the eye, "He's worth more to me dead than you alive. Hell, the only thing I kept you around for was to keep my lusus fed. You're worth nothing."

Your pusher drops to your feet, it feels, and you lose all of your fight in that moment, going limp against her grasp. She's right. You couldn't even fake it well enough to save him. You're trash, and now he and his family. These newfound friends. Are going to suffer a horrible fate because of your inadequacy. You look away from her. You were stupid to even get involved. You're going to end up just how you started. Alone and unloved, for all the couple hundred sweeps you have left.

"Why don't you take the two cuttlefish to a cell? Let them wallow together for one last night." With that, you and Karcin are being dragged from her throne room.


	17. Entry #??? 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ow...

You go numbly, not able to even look at Karcin. The two of you are tossed into a cell, bindings cut, and the door locked behind you. The guards taunt you from the other side of the bars, but they soon grow bored when you have no reaction for them, just huddling against the wall of the cell and staring at your feet.

"Cyrrus." Karcin's voice is hoarse from screaming, he walks over on shaky legs and touches your shoulder.

You shrug him off, still not looking at him and giving a low grunt. You won’t look at him. If you look at him you know you’ll start to cry, and you have to be strong now.

"C..cyrrus please..." His voice cracks. Fuck. You set your jaw, steeling yourself before looking up from the ground and looking at him. And oh god

He looks an absolute mess, bruises swelling most of his face. Bruises that you helped put there. There’s dried blood in a trail from the corner of his mouth, and all over his clothing. One of his horns is badly broken, splintered and jagged, and the place on his thigh where the Condesce had stabbed him is still bleeding. You grind your teeth, forcing yourself to look away from his injuries and to his eyes. Your voice catches on your next words and you only manage a small, choked noise.

He manages a small smile, "H..hello love."

Your body starts trembling again and you look away. You can't even bring yourself to apologize.

You can hear the frown in his voice as he speaks up again, his tone a bit sharper, “Cyrrus. Why won’t you look at me?”

You try your hardest to look anywhere but his face, working your jaw for a moment before responding.

"I can't make myself look at what I've done."

"Fine. Then while you're still in this state, were you actually going to kill my mother?"

You meet his eyes for a moment before looking away as it becomes too painful. You pause for a few seconds and then nod.

"I thought I could save you. It would have been the only way."

He.. slaps you? It's not hard enough to hurt, he's barely got the strength left. But he glares at you. "IT WAS THAT STUPID MOVE THAT MADE ME CRY OUT FOR YOU!"

You still keep your gaze to the ground, nodding. "I know. I've ruined everything."

His eyebrows knit together, "Stop that."

You look up, eyes dull, "Why? It's over."

"Because you are fucking ORPHANER DUALSCAR! You are CYRRUS! You're a seadweller that just told the Empress to fuck off! " He takes in a raspy breath, then doubles over, coughing. Concern breaks through your self-pity and you put a hand on his shoulder, furrowing your brow together.

“Karcin… Take it easy.”

You hold him lightly, afraid of hurting him. He's always been fragile, compared to you, but now it's been ratcheted up to an almost unbearable extent.

"It should be me..." You pause, swallowing against the tears welling in the corners of your eyes, "You don't deserve this."

"Please… I would hate to have to learn how to navigate that huge ship of yours." He swallows hard, "A-and you're the only one who can keep that rowdy crew of yours in line..." He lets out a shaky laugh.

You don’t laugh with him, only pull him closer and rock gently. Your eyes well over and diluted violet tears spill silently down your cheeks. He’s going to be gone, in less than a night. You’re going to have to watch him die. The reality of it all is only just hitting you.

"I-I suppose Aevone..." his voice trails off and he goes unbearably silent. And unnervingly still

You frown, shaking him gently. Oh god. He didn't just die on you, did he? You knew his injuries were severe, but- "Karcin?!"

You look at his face and he looks back at you, tears running down and making tracks in the blood and dirt on his face, "I... I'm afraid.. I don't want to go... "

Relief floods through you, quickly followed by a white-hot bolt of anger. You won’t let this happen. What are you doing, just sitting here? You stand, setting him gently on the ground.

“I won’t let you.”

"Cyrrus what are you doing?" He looks up at you, his cloak wrapped around him.

You start to pace around the cell searching for cracks in the wall, weaknesses in the bars, anything. There’s nothing. It’s completely secure. And so, you back up to the wall opposite the bars and get a running start, slamming yourself into the door and ricocheting your armor off of it with a clang.

"Cyrrus stop! You'll hurt yourself!" He shouts, working his way to a stand

You ignore him and try again, roaring as you run to the door once again and bounce off of it. Theres a slight bend in one of the bars there now. You eye it with satisfaction before preparing to go again.

He grabs your arm, "Please. What the hell are you doing?"

You pause at his hand on your arm and look down at him, mouth set in a tight line.

"I'm getting us out of here."  


His brows knit together, "Cyrrus, there are g-guards and what about mother or Mennym? Or... Mitcah.."

You ball your shaking hands into fists, "Guards? I'll tear them all apart. We'll get keys, get the others too. Just. You aren't going anywhere but out of here, do you hear me?"

For the first time since... the incident you and Karcin agreed to never talk about again, you see him break. "There is no USE!"

You snarl, taking him by the shoulders, "Listen to me! I will get you out of this, or die trying. I refuse to live without you. I won't go back to how it was. I need you. Fuck, I need Rosa, Mennym, even FUCKING Mitcah. I will not go on knowing I escaped the fate dealt to the rest of you. So let me. TRY."

He puts a hand on his face, trying to hide himself. No words escape him as he moves to rest his head on your chest. You stare at him, confused.

"Please. Just step to the side so you don't get hurt. And let me do this."

He steps back, arms wrapped around himself, "Cyrrus I can’t... I can't handle this.... I'm afraid and I need you... I don't want to die... I don't want to sit here and have to watch you do this..."

Your gaze darts between the door and him, wrapped up and looking so small… Your shoulders slump, and you stop, moving to him and pulling him into your arms.

“Fine. Ok. I’m… I’m sorry.”

You sit down in the corner of the cell, pulling him to sit in your lap and holding him to your chest.

"....tell me you love me."  


This makes you pause. Your eyes are burning again and you blink furiously, holding him tighter.

“I love you. With every fiber of my pathetic being I love you. More than anything I’ve ever loved.”

\----

Your name is Cyrrus Ampora, formerly loyal servant of Her Imperious Condescension, and you wish you had just turned the mutant in. You sit in the cell that you and Karcin occupy together. Holding him tightly, you can feel his bloodpusher against your chest as you dread the coming night. Knowing that it will be the last time he ever sees the sky.

As the light from the small window diminishes, he clutches onto you tighter, his small form trembling against you. No words are spoken, and no tears are shed. That passed hours ago. You breathe deep past the roiling pit of emotions surging through you, staying stoic and strong for his sake. He needs a rock right now, and you’ll have sweeps to grieve. Now is not the time.

“C-Cyrrus… I don’t want to die,” His voice is so quiet. So unlike the man you know him to be. You purse your lips, shooshing him and stroking his hair.

“I know lad. But you have to be strong now. Remember what you’re fighting for, don’t let this be just another mindless death. Give them something to think about,” Your voice is strained. You want to tell him pretty lies; that everything will be alright, that he doesn’t have to go. But he deserves more than that.

He’s quiet for a bit. You’re almost positive you can hear the gears in his head turning as he thinks, “I will not go in vain. I promise you.”

This makes you smile, though it is strained, and hug him tighter to your chest, “There’s a lad,”

The last of the light fades to dark, and you feel him tense. There are voices and the click of boots coming down the hallway. You look up and see the guards standing watch over your cell turn and fit the key into the cell door, opening it to allow the approaching trolls inside. You keep Karcin held tightly to you in your corner, turning a snarl on them and looking every bit the cornered animal you are. 

You know it’s hopeless, but you will not give him up without a fight.

“Give us the prisoner,” the front guard says, his weapon at the ready. You watch his hand twitch on the weapon, clearly he’s quite trigger happy. 

Karcin grips you tight, but his face shows no fear. You’re proud of him for that. You set your chin before giving a firm shake of your head, “No.”

“Goddamn it you fucking traitor,” he raises his rifle, aiming it at your head, “Hand him over or we’ll be forced to kill ya first. Dear Empress would be displeased at that.”

You hold your head high, rubbing soothing circles over Karcin’s back, “Go on then, kill me. I ain’t givin’ him over.”

“Ya can’t kill ‘im. The Empress will ‘ave yer head!” The second guard protests.

The first growls, turning the butt of his rifle on you and striking you square in the jaw. Your head snaps back and there’s a shift of weight in your lap. They’re trying to pull him away. 

You force yourself to recover from the dizzying blow and let out a feral snarl, ripping him away from them and putting yourself between Karcin and the guards. Theres a moment of pause while you stare them down before you jump one, starting to tear at his exposed throat with your claws and teeth. Cobalt blood splatters to the floor under your assault and the guard under you gives a gurgle, kicking and clawing at your arms before going limp. One less bastard to worry about. You turn your attention to the second guard, who looks rather fearful. As he should be.

Karcin stays pressed up against the wall behind you and the sound of more guards coming toward your cell echoes down the hall. You pick up the rifle that the first guard had been carrying before leveling it on the other with a narrowing of your eyes. You shoot him in the head, sending him toppling to the ground with a spray of purple. There’s a shout from down the hallway.

Something heavy comes down on you as you reload; a guard tackling you down as two others rush past you to grab Karcin, “No! RELEASE ME!”

You fight against the one on top of you, growling before a boot comes into your peripheral vision. The last thing you see is a struggling Karcin being dragged through the door of the cell before that boot hits you and everything turns to black. 

\------

For a moment, you think you’re dead. But then you remember that whatever god is out there is not that merciful to you. You hear the murmur of a crowd as you come to, opening your eyes to see a large pillar. An olive blood… Mennym… Is chained next to it. You hear soft sobbing and turn your head to see Rosa with her head in her hands alongside a resigned looking Mitcah, fuschia goggles strapped to his face. You blink blearily and shift your weight to hear the clatter of chains binding your own wrists and ankles. You’ve been stripped of your armor. All your clothing is missing, in fact, aside from your striped trousers.

You search the area for Karcin. He’s nowhere in sight. You give one tug on your chains before dropping to your knees with your hands in front of you.  
There’s no point anymore.

After what feels like hours, the crowd starts to liven up. All highbloods, none lower than teal. There’s jeering as a few guards start to come forward through the path cut by rope through the swathe of trolls, a small figure dragged along by a grip on the upper arms between them. His heels drag and skip across the ground as they half-carry him forward.

He’s tossed onto the platform like a rag doll, body bruised and bleeding from fresh lashes. Karcin is on his knees at the foot of the pillar. You watch as the irons are put to the kiln to be heated. Karcin watches, face somber.

The crowd falls silent and the world around you is filled with the sound of heels on concrete

Mennym goes into a frenzy at the sight of the Condesce, her snarls and screams cutting through the silence as she tears at her chains until her claws are bloodied. She looks like a captive animal, her eyes bright and wild. Raw, bloodthirsty.

The Empress grins at the sight of her. She places her hands on the full curve of her hips, “My dear, loyal subjects! We have caught the heretic!”

She raises her fist in triumph and there’s an answering roar from the crowd. She smiles.

“Today, there is a highblood among us that is no longer loyal to me. He harbored our enemy for perigrees, and even dared to partake in his foolish ideals!” The crowd picks up with the jeers again. You feel thousands of eyes on you, but keep your gaze turned forward.

“Now, we will exact what should have been done the moment he was hatched,” she points at Karcin, “The mutant shall die tonight!”

Rosa screams, begging for mercy as the crowd lets out another roar of approval. They start to chant something, you can’t be bothered to parse what it is. The irons are red-hot now, and pulled from the kiln by tongs before they’re affixed high on the pillar. The empress motions for the guards to strap Karcin into them.

The platform is raised and his arms are lifted above his head. You can hear the sear of burning flesh as they are clicked shut around his wrists and the platform is lowered to leave him hanging by his wrists.

His head snaps up and he lets out a blood-curdling scream. Literally, blood-curdling. Your blood freezes in your veins and you look up at him, feeling anger shoot through you as your bloodpusher starts beating again. You clench your fists, fighting the useless urge to fight, tear, rend, kill.

He screams until there is no breath left in him, left panting heavily. He raises his head to look at the crowd.

“I…” He wheezes, “I have... No quarrel with you. Any of you. My life has been lived in peace, and I stand before you all today in hopes that... That some day, the hatred in your hearts will be melted away, and that you will remember the kindness I have dedicated my life to propogating. And learn from it…”

He goes on to deliver one final sermon. You look on, eyes welling up as he meets your stare. You hold his gaze as he goes silent, and he looks to each of you in turn. His mother and the ones he loves. 

An arrow whistles through the air and embeds itself in his chest with a thud. His eyes go dim then, as his head falls to his chest.

“NOOOOOOO!” Mennym screams, trying with renewed strength to break free from her shackles, “KARCIN!”

She claws at the pillar and pulls at her chains with enough force to pull the peg holding them to the wood free. The Executioner’s bow is leveled on her and she freezes, staring him down with a grief-stricken expression.

He hesitates, hands shaking. He tilts his head, the motion barely noticeable and her eyes widen in realization before she bolts off towards the thick of trees just outside the crowd.

“No! You miserable lout! She escaped!” Condesce was seething.

Karcin’s body is freed from the irons, sent to the ground with a thud. Dolorosa surges forward, keening and holding his head in her lap, rocking back and forth with jade tears streaming down her face. 

You narrow your eyes in confusion as the irons are removed from the pillar and placed back in the heat.

The Empress stands tall hands on her hips as she begins to speak, “Loyal subjects. The mutant heretic is now dead before us,” the crowd roars in approval.

“But there is one more punishment to be dealt,” She turns her gaze to you, you glare at her.

“This traitorous Orphaner harbored our enemy and lied, TO MY FACE, about it.” She quirks an eyebrow at you. The crowd boos.

“Death is too good a punishment for scum like him. He does not deserve to be reunited with the traitor he so carelessly fell flush for. So.” She motions for the guards to bring you forward, onto the platform in front of the pillar. You’re forced to your feet and dragged into position before hands on your shoulders force you back to your knees.

“He will be branded with the same irons that held his treasonous lover in his death throes,” she smiles, basking in the applause, “Yes, yes. I know. Quite poetic, isn’t it?”

She bends close to you, whispering heatedly in your ear, “This is a fate you chose for yourshellf. You’re glubbin’ lucky it wasn’t my morayeel got to you first.”

She quickly falls back into her persona before the crowd as she straightens, stepping down from the platform daintily and retreating to the side to watch you be branded.

The guards raise the irons from the kiln with tongs once again and you set your jaw against a scream as they press the first half of the near-molten metal to your chest and your world is filled with searing white pain. You let out an explosive breath as it’s pulled away from your skin, doubling over and panting as sweat drips from your temples. You look down at your chest and see the first half of the curving shape of the irons, set in your skin that is still bubbling and black from the heat.

You’re pulled straight again by a rough grip on your horn and this time you do scream as the other half of the irons are pressed and held to your chest. The only sound that reaches your ringing ears is  
Rosa begging for them to stop. You hear the words tumble from her mouth.

“DON’T TAKE MY CHILDREN FROM ME!”

This echoes in your ears as the iron is removed from your skin and you go blank, blackness mercifully taking over your world again.


	18. Entry #??? 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Why do we do this to ourselves

It’s been 5 sweeps since the execution. 5 sweeps of numbness, searching and finding and searching again. You've been at sea for a terribly long time now, searching for the spider bitch this time. She'd stolen her. You can't believe, after all that searching. Through port after port and trader after trader, that Rosa had just been swept out from under you like that. And what she'd done before she'd taken her from you... Your insides coil with rage at the thought. You're going to tear the bitch apart, one day.

On the horizon, the faint image of another ship comes into view and you furrow your brow, directing the crew to head in that direction. As it comes closer, you see the familiar blue of the vessel. Mindfang.

You decide to go about this with stealth, and leap from the ship with Ahab’s crosshairs in tow, swimming in long easy strokes over to the other ship and boarding quietly. You'll search for her first, and get her to safety before even attempting another confrontation with Mindfang. You look around, making sure the coast is clear before slinking below decks to the slaves quarters

She's there, mending a tear in her clothes as she sits on her threadbare cot. She wipes at her eyes, humming a tune that triggers something in your mind. You remember hearing this tune. 

Karcin used to... You shake the thought from your head as you slowly start to approach her.

"Rosa." You whisper.

Her ears perk and she turns to you, "Cyrrus? Is that actually you or just another hallucination?"

You offer her a small smile, looking around before stepping closer.

"Aye, it's me. I've come to bring you back. Away from this witch." You reach for her hand.

She snaps her hand away from you, throwing herself to the floor, "Please no! Not again, don't touch me!" 

She trembles, curling in on herself. Your brow twitches as you frown, holding your hands up and retreating. God, what has Mindfang done to her? She's visibly shaking, and theres a hard knot low in your chest as you look at the broken creature this troll you knew has become. She was so headstrong, defiant and confident. And now all she's exuding is fear.

 

"Rosa.... You have to come with me. It will be alright, I won't let her fuckin' touch you again."

"Cyrrus I don't want anyone to touch me. Ever." She tries to stand, knees weak. You make to help her before frowning and pulling your hand back, instead waiting for her to make her slow way to her feet on her own.

 

"Can you make it above decks? You'll have to hold onto me for us to make it back to our ship, do you think you can bear that much at least?" 

You're genuinely worried that you'll get her above decks and she'll balk at the contact it will take to escape. Fuck this. You're going to fucking kill Mindfang for this. As if you didn't already have plenty reason to do so.

She forces her way to her feet, swaying with each step. Every other step she takes makes her trip, her hand goes to the wall for support instead of to you. Whatever Mindfang did to her while you were tracking them had scarred her to the point of almost no return.

"Rosa, this way." You lead her above decks, she's slow but close behind you. You look behind you, Rosa is looking around, as if afraid that Mindfang will get the drop on her.

The two of you make it to the edge of the ship without incident though, and you stand there for a moment.

“Rosa. I have to touch you now. I have to carry you so that we can escape. Will you allow me to do so?”

A look of panic crosses her face and she wraps her arms tightly around herself, seeming to be heavily debating this as she looks between you and the water. Your bloodpusher is pounding in your chest as you look around. Any moment you could be spotted, you can’t afford her time to debate about this. You’re considering just picking her up whether she wants it or not and going. It’s then that you hear the click of a door and a shout.

You snap your head in the direction of the noise and your stomach sinks. It’s her. She’s on the opposite end of the ship, but closing in fast. There’s no more time.

You turn your gaze back to the Dolorosa. Her expression is solemn as she looks up at you and you frown. She opens her mouth to speak.

“Cyrrus please. Just kill me.”

You freeze, staring at her with wide eyes, “I… Rosa we can still escape, come on. I can’t do that.”

“Cyrrus,” She looks at you sternly, “You know she will just do this again. Over and over. 

She will not give up any of her toys. I’ll never be able to be who I was before, now. Please. Just send me to my son.”

Her voice is choked as she says that last, tears flowing freely down her face. Everything in your chest turns to ice as resolution spreads through you. You nod, taking her by the shoulder and pulling Ahab’s from it’s place at your back. Just as Mindfang closes in and starts to snarl at you, you press the point of the spear to her stomach before pulling your arm back and sending it back forward with one sharp motion.

The woman in front of you lets out a small gasp of pain, slumping forward against you. 

You hold her upright for just a moment before pulling Ahab’s from her and pushing her backwards, sending her toppling overboard into the waves. You won’t let Mindfang have anything of her to keep as a trophy. She doesn’t deserve anything of the sort.

“You motherfucker!” Mindfang screeches and lunges at you, sword drawn.

You snarl and block her sword before hitting her square in the face with the butt of your gun. You waste no more time on this and quickly follow Rosa overboard, swimming back to your ship. No tears fall from your face as you make your way back to your ship, completely submerged. No. There is no violet tinging the water in your wake. 

And if there is, it’s washed away as the waves wash away everything.


	19. Chapter 19

It’s been sweeps since the passing of the Dolorosa. Sweeps of searching for Mindfang. Of fruitless battles and lost crew. You think. You and the flow of time aren’t too well acquainted at this point. You’ve been piss drunk since almost the instant it happened. What’s left of your crew has grown concerned, but none of them have bothered you, really.

None except Aevone. He seems to be insistent on trying to take care of you or some shit like that. Helping you ‘recover.’ As if that’s a thing you’ll be able to do. As if this is like that brand on your chest. Something he’ll be able to heal, and allow you to move on the same.

But you aren’t the same, you think as you stare at the large burn mark spanning across your chest. The symbol of the sufferer, the mark of a failed attempt to change this damned world. You consider the irony of this symbol. In death, they allowed the signless a sign. A sign that represents death to traitors of the empire, that represents the corruption of the system that decides. You wear it proudly, and will do so until your death.

There is one thing you want though. You want to see Mindfang cold and lifeless in the dirt. It’s that craving for vengeance that brings you to the Grand Highblood’s hive- no…. Lair. The stench of death surrounding the place almost makes you sick. Aevone pleads with you one more time not to do this, to find another way. You shake your head.

“Aevone. If I don’t come out, I want you to watch over Ophelia for me. Keep her safe. I know you can captain her just as well as I can.”

He stands straight, giving you a curt nod. His jaw is clenched tight. He’s trying to look strong, and for that you’re proud of him.

You enter the building. The initial horror of the blood-painted walls faded sweeps ago, when you were still but young. New in your Orphaner boots and questioning your ability to do the job. There’s a distant honking coming from the grand sitting room. You know that’s where you’ll find the indigo blooded bastard.

With a faint sway to your step, you make your way further in. You’d drunk five troll’s worth of ale in preparation for this and rather than fear, you feel confidence, even happiness. No matter what happens here you’ll get something you want. Justice for Mindfang, or death trying. Either one would be a relief to your tired mind.

You arrive at the grand sitting room, the place where the blood dirties the walls, floors-hell even the ceiling- the most. You stand before the Highblood, shoulders thrown back and chin raised high.

“The fuck do you want, motherfucker?” He’s holding a club that drips with rust colored blood.

You still feel no fear. You set your jaw, pulling a wanted ad from your pocket and holding it up.

“I know the location of this one, and would like to disclose it in exchange for assistance in bringing her in. She needs to be brought to justice for her crimes against the Empire and trollkind, and I’d like to enlist the aid of the legislacerators. For this I need your influence, Highblood.”

“You think you can just come in here and ASK for my MOTHERFUCKING ASSISTANCE?” He stands, walking towards you, “Why the fuck should I help you? I don’t get any motherfuckin LAUGHS from it.”

You look up at the troll looming over you, considering your next words carefully. Not out of fear, but a resolve not to waste this opportunity. You watch his face, disappointment flashes there briefly. He wanted you to cower.

“This isn’t a joking matter,” You state flatly. 

He growls, “EVERYTHING IS A JOKING MATTER. Every little fuckin thing.”

Spittle flies from his mouth and you grimace, wiping it from your face, “Fine. What do I have to do to make this happen?”

“Make me motherfucking laugh,” he moves to sit on his chair, “Tell me something FUCKING HILARIOUS.”

There’s something about the way he stares at you that makes you uneasy, but you’re too jaded and frankly drunk out of your mind to care.

You think for a moment. Funny. You can do funny. What’s the biggest joke you can think of right now. The biggest fucking rioter of a… You’ve got it. A grim smile crosses your features.

“Alright. You want a joke, landdweller? I’ll give you a fuckin’ joke. What’s pink, ugly, and couldn’t pity a smelly fuckin’ oaf like you if she tried?”

Rage paints the Highblood’s face as he shoots up to a stand, dwarfing you, “YOU IGNORANT MOTHER FUCKER.”

You snicker to yourself, ignoring the way he towers over you, “Your ‘Morayeel’!”

Yep, you’re going to die, and for some reason that seems like the funniest fucking thing. You decide to share that too.

“I’m gonna fuckin’ die!” You look up at him finally, still laughing like a madman- which, maybe you are.

He raises his club over you, screaming, “DAMN RIGHT YOU ARE! INSULTING MY MOTHERFUCKING MOIRAIL! You’re gonna join that LITTLE FUCKING MUTANT you betrayed her for.”

He strikes you, hard. You fall to the ground, barely registering what happened. There’s already a splotch of fresh blood next to where you lay on the ground. Violet. You reach up to feel the damage to your head as he rears back with his club. Huh. Your horn is broken. You can see the end of it lying next to you.

His club comes down on your chest next, and you choke, spitting more violet to the ground. You don’t try to escape. This is what you wanted, after all. And he’s right. 

You’ll be joining Karcin. You smile up at the Highblood as he raises his club once more. 

He lets out a scream of rage as he deals the killing blow.

Your world is black.

\--

Death isn’t so bad, you realize. Though from where you have yet to materialize, it’s quite disorienting. Suddenly, nothingness turns to your back against sand. There’s the sheen of some sort of dome above you. A… A bubble? You sit up slowly, taking in your surroundings. They’re familiar to you.

You remember this beach. The ocean still sings as it crashes against the sand. You haven’t been here in a long time. You stand, dusting yourself off and looking around you. There’s a small hive in the distance. Your wrigglerhood home. You frown. Why did you end up here, of all places?

You sigh and decide to start walking. You do enjoy the small pang of nostalgia that the hive brings you. But it also reminds you that you’re here alone. You make your way to the hive at a steady pace. There are footprints in the dirt surrounding it and you frown. 

Why would those be there? Shrugging it off as another fluke of this strange afterlife, you stand before the door for a moment. Wait. You hear voices inside.

You don’t realize you’re running until you nearly bust the door off it’s hinges with the force of your movements. You look around inside for the voices. They’re coming from the nutrition block and you burst into the room. You freeze. Two familiar trolls occupy the room. There’s a clatter as something falls to the floor and the sound of shattering glass.

“Cyrrus?”

“Ka… Karcin…” You barely have to think to get your body to move to him. He stands quickly, knocking the chair over and pulling you into a hug.

“You’re here… Cyrrus.”

You hear a choked sob, and only distantly realize that it comes from you as you hold him fiercely to your chest, looking up to the other troll in the room. Rosa.

“You’ve kept us waiting, Cyrrus. How rude of you,” She speaks with a smile as she bends to clean up the bowl she’d broken when you entered.

“Welcome home.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wellp. Here it is. The final chapter. Or at least. The last chronological one. There's a possibility for more detail in the middle, so we aren't marking this as finished, since.. Well, it isn't. But hey! Thanks for reading! We love you all, truly. Feel free to leave questions in the comments if you feel like we left something open, and we'll get to them ~<3


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